


love & regards, aster flores

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: The Half of It (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23982139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: There's an Aster Flores that belongs inside Squahamish, and Aster is not sure if she's still that person.
Relationships: Ellie Chu/Aster Flores
Comments: 65
Kudos: 618





	1. someone new

**Author's Note:**

> *stretches and cracks knuckles* Are we out of hiatus? Maybe? Anyway, hello! :) So we meet again. It's so great to see you here.

The first thing Aster Flores acquires in college is a vice. She picks it up from a girl named Jess in World History, who goes ahead and lights her first few cigarettes for her. Her father would have disapproved, true, but it's not like he's here; she'll deal with God later, if it has to come to that.

There's an Aster Flores that belongs inside Squahamish and she's not entirely sure she's still that person; she first feels it on the train out, and then later, most everywhere else. She still gets recruited left and right, despite all attempts to keep her head down—choirs and art circles and sororities. To be honest, she's had it with _organizations_ of all kinds*;* she supposes that at least, for the time being, it'd be refreshing to stay away and be on her own. A total change of scenery, in a manner of speaking.

As would be expected, she spends most of her time in between classes at the library—either trying to get ahead on her readings, or just taking random books off the shelves for browsing, if she's inclined. She likes the quiet here; some days, when she feels _really_ motivated, she runs through her notes and rewrites them, just because.

And then, some days, she thinks about writing letters.

;;

The passage of time has dulled the sting a bit, but Aster has yet to truly find the right turn of phrase for what Paul and Ellie did to her. She's decided she could not be angry at Paul Munsky for long—after all, it's not his fault he had no words for his feelings, and, if Aster were to be truly honest, this has been actually quite relatable: To be full of things she just doesn't have the right words for.

 _Dear Ellie,_ she begins again, before tapering off—just like she's had for countless times, scratching her name out in frustration before closing her notebook. Before leaving, Ellie had left her address and number with Paul, who then gave it to her on her last night in Squahamish.

"It's the least I could do," he just says, sheepishly handing the envelope over. "It must get lonely out there."

And it _does_ , no matter how hard Aster tries to keep it under considerable wraps. _I'm a Russian doll of feelings!_ she thinks idly, smiling despite herself. **Trust Ellie Chu to pop up in the strangest of times and places and mental spaces.

 _How do you do that?_ Aster continues, finding space under one of her attempts. _Today, it was kind of warm out, and I happened by the memory of that day at the hot spring. Again._

Aster sighs, setting her pen firmly against the paper, preparing for another erasure before stopping herself. _I don't have to send this,_ she decides. _I just have to keep writing._

And so she does.

;;

_Dear Ellie,_

_It would probably cheer you up to know that today we had a totally legitimate graffiti activity—one of our college's walls needed repainting, and it seemed like a wasted opportunity to have so many art-inclined freshmen unoccupied. Kidding aside, I have seen so much exceptional talent in my short stay here so far—to be honest, I feel a bit... underqualified, if that makes sense. I mean, I'm aware we're all here to learn, but many of them seem to be already ahead—in fact, some of them have been pursuing their art since childhood. I can't help but think sometimes—what if I had started too late? x_

_Aster_

;;

Her parents call on Saturday nights. In the beginning, she gets this feeling that her father knows more than he let on during these calls, but after a while, she realizes that what she gets on Saturday night is in fact a preview of Sunday morning's sermon. That's probably why it feels like a guilt trip.

She doesn't really miss service back home, not really; whenever she thinks about church, much of what she remembers is just a mix of Trig's botched proposal, Paul's confession, and Ellie's face. Sure, there are _other_ memories triggered by Ellie's face, it's just that—when she goes back to that church, she feels like that girl again sitting inside the confessional, heart heavy with a _confusion_ that isn't allowed of her, and then here comes Ellie's face again, rushing in full view, saying _See you._

On Sunday mornings, she still gets up early—old habits die hard. In lieu of seeking service, she steps out instead, coffee and cigarettes in one hand, pen and paper in the other.

;;

_Dear Ellie,_

_Do you still not believe in God? Does it ever not get lonely? It's been a while since I was last in church—I still remember the last time I was in there, and let's just say I... get flashbacks. Do you ever get flashbacks? Like, bits and pieces of—well, not entirely unwanted memories, just—inappropriately timed ones? It is, as you've said, messy._

_Are there services at Grinnell? Do you play at any of them? Do you still play at all? You're really good on a piano. Is it true that musically inclined people are usually adept at more than one musical instrument? I mean, Trig's a good showman, but he's just—I don't think he even knows how to actually play a guitar._

_Speaking of Trig—I haven't heard from him in a while either. In many ways, moving here has been a sort of reset. Story of my life, I guess. x_

_Aster_

;;

If anybody knew Aster has been writing a Chinese-American girl from her old town like it were some sort of journaling prompt, they'd probably get worried, so she tries to keep it to herself. Until, of course, she keeps getting that nagging feeling to write throughout the day, which kind of becomes a situation in itself.

"You're writing home?" asks Jess once, during one of their smoke breaks behind the library.

Aster just nods, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. "Yeah," she just says, distracted for the moment.

"Cool," is all Jess says. There's an easy sort of quiet about her that Aster has always liked; she isn't a weighty presence, and she has always let Aster unfold at her own pace. "If you like, I'm doing a Post Office run, maybe tomorrow. I could send it for you."

Aster stops scribbling; for a moment, it's like her hand loses its connection from her brain, short-circuited by the mere suggestion. "That's very kind of you," she manages. "But you don't really have to."

Jess just shrugs, finishing off her cigarette before stubbing it out and throwing it in the bin. "No pressure," she just says. "You know where to find me. See you?"

Aster just nods as Jess turns away, presumably to get to her next class on time; Aster doesn't have hers until the next hour or so. She stares at the letter she's writing, mulling over Jess's suggestion: _No pressure._

_Is this your boldest move?_

Aster closes her eyes; she's hearing Ellie again. Finishing her cigarette, she puts the unfinished letter back in her bag and goes for a walk.

;;

The following day, she catches up with Jess after class, envelope in hand. "Hey," she begins, just as Jess tosses their pack at her. "About that offer."

"Sure thing," Jess says easily. "Your letter ready?"

Aster hands it over as casually as she could muster. "Thanks."

"Grinnell?" Jess asks, giving the address a glance, but not commenting on anything else.

Aster just breathes out and nods, too relieved to say anything.

"Cool," Jess just says again. And then, "How'd you do in that quiz earlier? That was _insane._ "

Just like that, saved by Jess again. Aster turns to her cigarette and finally lights it, letter momentarily forgotten in Jess's hand.

;;

_Dear Ellie,_

_This letter is finally getting to you courtesy of a friend, who unknowingly challenged me to be bold today. To be honest, I've been trying to write to you ever since I arrived here; Paul gave me your address the night before I left. As expected, it was sweet and awkward and_ Paul, _and I think you have a good idea how that went._

_Anyway, I figured I should probably send something. So far, none of it has seemed to be worth sending out—all of it is just inconsequential rambling you're probably not interested in reading. College has been... an experience. I don't think any of it has amounted to anything worth writing home about, not yet, but. Here I am._

_Trite as this may sound, I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you don't feel as if you're being pressured to write back, but you should know that a letter from you would be most welcome. As it always has been. x_

_Aster._


	2. pretty girls & starting conversations

Aster tries not to hope too hard for a response, but the attempt only gets her so far.

Admittedly, she had not thought this part through—the part where she waits. She finds that this is _not_ like receiving surprise letters in her locker, not at all. Not that she'd been naive enough to think it was going to be like that. Frankly, it's not even like she has not waited for anything before—it's just that she's never waited _like this._

All this barely repressed _expectation._

 _This was a bad idea,_ she thinks. She's outside the library, waiting for Jess after her class, trying not to burn through her cigarette so quickly. She and Jess had fallen into some kind of low-maintenance routine centered on the library, and after a while, without even consciously thinking about it, she thinks they've managed to sync their class schedules.

Maybe this is what it really means to have a friend.

Aster hasn't really done _friends_ that much; being a deacon's daughter and so closely associated with the church may have had something to do with that. That, or perhaps all that _moving._ Or perhaps her father's obsession with policing her relationships. Perhaps it was not just one thing.

Sure, she's got *friends—*but something has always felt... _off._ About everything, and it wasn't even just about Trig; it was about _her,_ about how she'd been unable to find a way to fully connect with whoever it was. How she'd been unable to feel safe and understood.

 _Until Ellie._ Aster stares at the ashes forming at the edge of her cigarette before tapping them off and taking a drag. She didn't really think she was _entitled_ to get hurt, but whatever it was, it stung a bit like pain. The deceit, she'd been able to get over quite quickly: So Paul couldn't write a love letter, but Ellie could. That's not so hard to imagine. Maybe it was a business transaction; maybe it was something friends did for each other. Aster may not have had a lot of friends, but she understands some things about friendship.

Aster took a while to figure it out, but perhaps what hurt more about that entire moment was everything else she had missed—all of it had simply been staring at her _in the face_. What if she'd realized it sooner? What if it had crossed her mind just a bit earlier?

What if she had been given a bit more time to be _that_ different person?

A rush of footsteps startles her, and Aster drops her cigarette; it was almost done anyway. Jess is still huffing when she gets to her, adjusting her backpack on one shoulder. "Hey Aster," she says, catching her breath. "Sorry. Were you waiting long?"

Aster shakes her head. "Just got here," she says. "How was class?"

"Bitchier than usual," Jess replies. "Anyway—have they written back yet?"

Aster tries to hide her frown. She was hoping Jess would not bring it up until she's had a positive answer for this particular question. "No, not yet."

"Oh," Jess says, unable to hide hers. "Sorry. It's probably the postal system."

Aster tries to put a smile on. "And even if it weren't—it's really OK." Jess just looks at her for a long quiet while before settling for a shrug and then handing over an unlit cigarette.

"You just look like you need cheering up," says Jess. "That group from Business Ad in World History—they're also in my Social Science class, and their org is throwing this party."

"Not interested in parties—"

"—Correction, _fundraiser,_ " Jess appends immediately, and Aster just has to laugh. "What?" asks Jess, mock offended and trying to rein in a laugh of her own. "Do you think I _don't_ get invited to these things? Anyway—you might wanna—I may have told them we're going."

" _What?_ " Truth be told, the idea doesn't seem half-bad, but Aster, she's just— _maybe_ she's party wary. Or weary. Or both. "I don't think I'm going to be any fun," she says instead, more honest than intended.

Jess tilts her head and looks at her. "Nah," she says, after quiet consideration. "I think you'll do just fine." And then, "So we'll pick you up then?"

" _We?_ "

Jess bristles for a bit, tempering a smile as she looks away. "Whatever—just. Come with, if you want to find out."

Aster narrows her eyes at her, but nods anyway. "Fine," she concedes. "Text me?"

"Sure." By now, Jess has already managed to school her features, wiping out the intriguing grin she'd sported earlier in favor of her usual poker face. "Besides, I think that girl Nico—short hair, front row, expert at obscure Asian capitals—she's really into you. She'll be there."

Aster blinks. She opens her mouth, trying to say... well, _anything._ An appropriate response that won't get Jess thinking she must be homophobic. _Is she? Isn't she? She isn't, right? Ellie Chu kissed her and—_

The memory summons a soft sigh, despite herself.

"So...I guess that's still a go, right? Sorry it just sort of came out—pun unintended."

"No, that's not—no, I mean, _yes._ It's just—I was just surprised, is all."

" _Surprised?_ Have you seen yourself, Aster Flores?"

Aster summons enough strength to just smack Jess in the arm, right before they part ways for home. Another afternoon over; another question for Aster to mull over into the dead hours of the night.

;;

 _Dear Ellie,_ Aster begins. She's been skipping the whole _journaling to Ellie in letters_ thing since she's started waiting for a response, but this day in particular needed a very specific kind of unpacking.

 _A friend asked me a question today—she asked if I've 'seen myself'. We were joking about going to this Business Ad party and she told me about this girl in our World History class—Nico—who was probably into me. Of course, she's probably just joking—only that Jess is not much of a joker, not really. When I said I was just surprised, in response she just said:_ Surprised? Have you seen yourself?

_Sometimes, I tend to overthink questions like this and end up having a small existential crisis. I thought getting out here would help me find myself—see myself. Do you ever feel like you only see yourself from other people's perspectives? Like you're changing lenses when you're with different people? Being with Trig was a lot like that, and I guess, to a degree, Paul was like wearing a different pair of glasses, which was what made the whole thing so refreshing._

_And then there was you. That day at the spring, it felt like I was seeing something so clearly. You're not just a pair glasses, you're—you're a full-length mirror. I'm not sure how you do it; you should probably teach me a thing or two._

_I'm still waiting for your letter—a part of me didn't want to write that down, because putting something into words means acknowledging it, and I did not want to admit to myself that I was waiting; that I still am. Because what if nothing was forthcoming? I know writing all these unsent letters is not going to make your response magically appear on my desk any sooner but what can we do._

_Some days feel like words are all we have, so we might as well. x_

_Aster_

;;

Aster takes a long while deciding what to wear for the party. Eventually, she goes for a dark blue dress and makes sure to take her denim jacket with her. It does seem like a cold night ahead.

Jess picks her up with a guy named Marco who, a few drinks in, finally gets introduced to her as Jess's newly minted boyfriend. The reveal makes Aster squeal a little; Jess looks so flushed and happy, it's hard not to feel a little drunk in all of it, despite the fact that Aster has not been drinking that much at all.

Nico is there, as earlier predicted; they hang together at the sidelines of the fundraiser program, talking about traveling in between cheering during the auction. Jess keeps track of her from across the room, flashing her drunk thumbs up signs while tucked underneath Marco's arm. The sight makes Aster pull her jacket tighter around herself.

"Cold?" Nico asks.

Aster looks up at her; wonders how it must feel like to dance her fingertips across the side of Nico's shaved head. _Do you want to get out of here?_ she wants to ask. "Do you want to get another drink?" she asks instead.

They end up having two more beers. Aster finds that she likes listening to Nico talk, who remains well-spoken despite all the drinking. They talk well after the fundraiser part of it has finished; by then, the crowd has thinned considerably. Nico talks in a soft, measured tone that makes Aster feel... _safe._

_It's not like it never crossed my mind._

"Do you travel a lot?" Nico asks her.

"Not really, and not really very far," Aster admits. "You?"

"Not really either," says Nico, a little laugh punctuating the moment. "But someday, maybe. After."

"After," Aster nods. She doesn't quite see it for herself, but for a change, she tries on the feeling like she would a jacket: _Hope._ It feels warmer than expected.

;;

Later that night, instead of Jess and Marco, it is Nico who ends up walking her home. As it turns out, she also lives on campus, which allows Aster to avoid crashing Jess and Marco's after-party plans. As her good night gesture, Jess just gifts the both of them with two fresh sticks for the walk home.

By the time they reach Aster's door, Nico had been ready to say good night; Aster just glances at their halfway-done cigarettes and offers, "Stay a bit." They seat themselves on the steps and watch quietly as the smoke dances against the night sky, blanketing the stars like flimsy gauze.

It feels nothing like the spring, Aster finds, and there's a twinge in her chest at the thought that perhaps nothing ever will—but it's at least _something._

;;

_Dear Ellie,_

_I think the party went... well? Or at least better than expected. I thought I wasn't ready yet to be around so many people, but all considered, that was a good party—and for a cause, too. I hope it signals a good year ahead. A lucky party, if you will._

_Apparently, Jess has a boyfriend, and I met him during the party. He looks like a fun guy; he and Jess looked like they were genuinely enjoying each other's company and interests. I wondered if Trig and I ever looked like that—like Trig weren't completely involved with himself and himself alone, and at least had me in his mind at some point. Spilt milk, as the old would have said._

_To be honest, seeing Jess and Marco all wrapped up in each other—first, it filled me with this warm feeling, before flooding me with cold. None of this makes sense, probably—I apologize—but do you ever get that guilty feeling sometimes? That you're never happy enough for other people's good fortune?_

_Anyway, because Jess was plastered to Marco the entire time, I spent the party hanging out with Nico—remember her? Girl from World History, could be into me? It didn't—well, I wouldn't know, we didn't really talk about it, but we talked about much everything else, and I daresay it was better that way._

_She walked me home—she lived on campus, too, so that was lucky—and before she left, we spent a bit of time hanging out in the quiet, and—do you ever still get that sometimes? One moment, you're somewhere, and the next, you're elsewhere entirely, and all of it just feels so vivid—I swear I could still hear Chicago playing softly under the whispering of the trees._

_As I was locking my bedroom door, I thought: What if people were doors that one only enters once and never again? Or what if they were doors that never lead to the same place twice? Wouldn't we try to linger, I wonder?_

_If we were doors—well. If I were a door at least, you should know, I have never shut. x_

_Aster_

;;

Aster wakes up with a mild hangover, and a text from Jess: "So... how was it?"

 _How was what?_ Aster asks in her head, momentarily forgetting what day it is or where she was the previous night. _Oh. Last night._ "Got home just fine," she just says.

"You know what I mean."

 _It's too early in the morning for this._ "You're telling me." Aster slips out of bed with a small groan—there is dull thrumming in her head that won't go away. She is rummaging through her drawers for medicine when she hears rustling by the door.

_The mail._

She abandons her search for hangover meds and dashes to the door instead, head dizzy and heart pounding. _Is today going to be the day,_ she wonders, flipping through bills and college announcements and dorm notices and.

And there it was, in handwriting she half-knew: _From Ellie Chu, To Aster Flores._

;;

_Dear Aster,_

_I apologize for the delay in this—I admit, I got to your letter late. I have been quite busy; all this schoolwork should really not have surprised me, but unfortunately, it kind of has. I'm still trying to find my footing, somewhat. I thought I was already this fast-reader—haha, joke's on me, 'cause here comes college, proving me wrong at every turn._

_Anyway—enough about me! How about you?? How has life been treating you? I hope only in the best way. Art school must be amazing—I can already imagine you being among the talents to watch for in your college._

_Have you managed to vandalize some walls already? I hope you've already managed to gather your fair share of accomplices in your brief stay so far. I mean, I don't doubt it—you could be... magnetic. But I guess you already knew that. ~~;)~~_

_I must say I'm a bit intrigued re: the other letters. I say you should send them anyway—you've made this bold stroke, why not make another? (Or many others?)_

_You say that nothing's been worth writing home thus far—and I beg to disagree. Wherever you are is always worth writing about, and I'll always want to hear about it._

_And I sincerely believe that the best part is yet to come._

_Yours,_

_~~SmithCorona~~ Ellie_

_P.S. We should probably get back on that app sometime._


	3. graffiti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the school year picks up, so do the months; the days blur into each other. Aster sends out her old letters in between.

Aster stares at her open books, thinking about the things Ellie said. _Send them anyway,_ it rings in her head. Distracted, she abandons her nth attempt at studying and opens her drawer instead, flipping idly through sheets of letters-slash-journal-entries stashed away there.

 _Do I dare?_ she asks herself, before finally taking the first one and sending it out, folding it carefully around a Polaroid of the finished wall, all the strokes now dry.

 _Dear Aster,_ Ellie writes back, a few days later.

_You told me there hasn't been anything interesting worth writing about—whatever did you mean by that! I think it's fantastic that there are actual walls that are in need of ~~vandalizing~~ legitimate repainting. Thank you for the Polaroid—I think I know which parts you worked on. Those flowers must be so lovely in person. If you ever get around to making small paintings while trying to stay awake in classes—do spare me one!_

_Exams are around the corner, and I have been spending an incredible amount of time doing required reading that it has actually turned me off from recreational reading in the meantime—which is sad! But expected, I guess? I wish my teachers would give us better readings at some point._

_Anyway—if there's more of these back-dated letters, I could definitely use more interesting things to read._

_Looking forward,_

_Ellie._

;;

As the school year picks up, so do the months; the days blur into each other, and Aster gets more and more immersed in her exams and submissions. She sends out her other old letters in between, appending short notes and drawings as apology, if only to keep her line to Ellie alive.

_Dear Ellie,_

_Hope these flowers make up for the lack of new words. These past few days have been crazy—I honestly don't know how to stay awake in class anymore, so I've taken to drawing at the sidelines. I've found that they do wonders to focus my attention. May have gotten me in trouble once or twice—so I hope you enjoy these bits! The production process has been risky! :P_

_How have your exams been? Are you staying awake in class? What are you reading? One of these days, I owe you a longer letter and a better painting. x_

_Aster._

;;

"Hey, stranger."

Aster looks up from her notebook, momentarily confused by the voice—she was supposed to meet Jess here at the library for her notes after having skipped class earlier, but instead she sees Nico, approaching with a smile. "Hey yourself," she greets. "How have you been?"

"Good," Nico replies, seating herself right across. "You weren't at class earlier?"

Aster shakes her head; she'd been cramming for another subject and decided to take a cut. "Overdue project," she just says. "Learn any interesting Asian capitals today?"

Nico laughs. "Of all things to identify me with, _why_ did Jess have to go with that one?"

"It does have spectacular recall," says Aster, joining in with a laugh of her own. "Speaking of—did you see Jess today?"

"In class earlier—and about that," says Nico. "That's why I'm here—she says she can't make it to your afternoon meet-up, and that she's sorry."

" _Boo,_ but thanks," says Aster in mock disappointment, as Nico slides the folder containing the notes across the table. "I feel like I haven't seen Jess in _ages._ Whatever are they up to?"

Nico shrugs. "Saw her briefly at class, but other than that—who knows? Probably all those 'new couple' things."

Aster laughs lightly at Nico's air quotes. "Well, I am sure that's definitely more fun than—uh. Whatever I have here." Aster looks around her, surveying her desk littered with her half-read books and unfinished notes—everything momentarily forgotten for the half-written letter in her hands. _What a mess,_ she just thinks, picking up her pen and twirling it.

Nico leans in with a grin on her face. "If it's any consolation—I don't think anyone can make exam reviews any more interesting. Not even you, Aster Flores." Her tone is light and teasing, and Aster can't help the blush that creeps across her face. "Anyway—I just dropped by to give you these. I'll see you around then?"

"Sure," Aster manages, watching as Nico turns around and exits the library. Outside, the late afternoon sun has begun its descent, bathing the trees outside the window with a golden glow. Aster sighs at the sight; she couldn't put her finger on it right now, but she feels a twinge of _something_ in her chest—it's not sadness, per se. It's just a little... _melancholy?_ If that's a word she's allowed for a feeling that's not just loneliness—or at least, not quite. **

 _Oh._ Aster glances at the half-written letter in front of her before slipping her phone out for a quick snap, finally knowing what to paint for Ellie next.

;;

_Dear Aster,_

_Believe me when I say I understand crazy; after all, midterms season is in full swing, and we're churning out research papers every other day. To my horror (or efficiency, whichever way you want to view it), I have begun seeing random entries from the Chicago Manual of Style when I close my eyes. I miss reading for leisure—I have been using Samantha Shannon's The Priory of the Orange Tree as a rather oversized paper weight. I hate that I am unable to get to it just yet—I have heard so many good things about it._

_Perhaps the only material I could consume guiltlessly these days is music—I like listening while studying and writing. Lately, the college's (recently revived) campus radio station has been playing quite a good selection of old songs, though sometimes all it does to me is just make me miss my mother. She really liked her England Dan and John Ford Coley, too. Anyway, being reminded of my mother is not so bad either._

_Anyway—to answer your question from the other letter, no, I haven't been able to play a service yet, or to play hereabouts at all. I guess I need to find my groove first, academically. Then I can think about testing the waters, I guess? I still feel somewhat out of my depth; like now's not the time just yet to experiment with fancy swim strokes! (See what I did there?)_

_I am thankful for the drawings; they're so, so lovely. Please do not get into trouble for them though! I'd hate to be the cause of stress. Thank you again for sending them—they're currently occupying a growing space on the wall in front of my desk, and I am always making room for more._

_Thank you for always taking the time from your busy schedule to keep writing to me. They're easily the highlight of my trips to the mail room._

_Ellie._

;;

Aster imagines Ellie on her trip to their mail room—her jacket askew and her backpack slung on one shoulder, like she often did back in Squahamish. She'd always somewhat envied how Ellie carried herself—that quiet confidence she could never quite nail for herself. All her life, Aster has always felt like she had someone looking over her shoulder, constantly checking and counter-checking and _measuring._ It was exhausting—she chalked it up to her religious upbringing, and all that Omnipresent God indoctrination. Some concepts could run really deep and be very hard to shake off.

Given the steadily growing volume of school requirements, Aster tries to power through each deadline by treating her letter-writing sessions as rewards—and so far, no other method has worked quite as well, not even her study group with Jess and Nico, which met on Thursdays at Marco's.

Not to say she isn't grateful—she is, an absurd amount, actually. The next time Aster saw Jess after the library, Jess had been apologetic; study group was actually _her_ idea, and Aster couldn't really think of a reason not to go. Besides, Nico assured her she was tagging along as well, so as not to make Aster some weird third wheel in Marco's apartment.

"We never got to talk about that letter," Jess broaches, not even looking up from the page she was highlighting.

"What letter," asks Aster innocently.

"The one you sent to Grinnell," Jess replies. "Did they ever get back to you?"

Aster just nods. "They did," she says, stopping mid-sentence to re-read the passage she is on, after being interrupted with thoughts of Ellie. "They still are, actually."

"Old-school correspondence— _nice,_ " Nico muses. "E-mail and text just don't quite cut it sometimes, no?"

"Something like that, yeah," Aster agrees. She keeps her head down, willing her hair to fall and cover half her face, if only to hide the blush that she's sure is coming.

"Sweet," says Jess, tone teasing. "You ever tell them about how _cool_ your college crew is?"

Aster laughs, thankful at how comfortable this is—how they care enough with their pronouns; how they could keep each other updated without feeling like the catch-up is _intrusive_.

"Yes," Aster ends up saying, a little too earnestly. "I will make it a point to mention our college crew's newly formed Thursday study group, too, when I write back."

Jess looks up from her book and gives Aster this dopey grin; beside her, Nico just tilts her head and smiles in kind, like they're posing for a picture that Aster ends up actually taking.

;;

_Dear Ellie,_

_Glad to hear I am at least contributing something positive to your mail room experience! I could completely relate to the whole dreaming about schoolwork thing—my nightmares are made of completely made up deadlines of plates and submissions, I actually wake up with my heart racing. Not nice, brain._

_England Dan! Your campus DJs (are they still called those?) have good taste. You should probably send me your study tunes playlist—maybe it'd help boost my attention span or improve my memory retention, haha. In exchange, I could also send you mine—they're all on Spotify anyway._

_Schoolwork has also taken away my leisure reading time—tell me all about your oversized paperweights, and I raise you my copy of Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin, still sitting in the corner of my table. I've been hearing so many good things about Priory myself—maybe I'll get a copy too, one of these days. Because what's one more giant paperweight, right?_

_Anyway, I believe you'll find your footing soon enough; I hope the waters are warm and inviting when you're finally ready to test them, haha. I definitely saw what you did there! You need to stop mixing your metaphors ;)_

_I hope you liked the painting by the way; I was studying at the library one afternoon when I noticed the golden hour. It filled me with this... intense feeling of melancholy. I was hoping to chat with a friend that afternoon, but she ended up skipping because she was hanging out with her boyfriend. I still feel guilty for being sad about it, to be honest. Especially since she'd made it up to me by organizing a Thursday afternoon study group. I guess I just missed her, that's all._

_They tell us that college is this great new world, but the truth is, there are a lot of lonely pockets in here. I mean, I have friends, but sometimes—there are just moments, you know? You ever get into any of those? Or maybe I'm just doing college wrong._

_In any case—I cannot wait for this first term to be over! What are your plans for term break?_

_Aster._

;;

End of term, as expected, means parties left and right. Aster ends up attending Nico's org's term-ender with Jess and Marco—a fitting finish, all considered.

They pile into Marco's car and sing out loud to Fall Out Boy on the way to the venue—some house off-campus with a pool and a garden. When they get there, the venue is already somewhat filled with partying students in various states of inebriation, all of them just all too glad that the term is now over and done with. Aster fits in more comfortably this time around, milling about and greeting now-familiar faces with an easy smile on her lips, a cup of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

She and Nico still go through the party together, mostly; at some point, their tag team wins two straight rounds of beer pong against Jess and Marco, in a hilarious match that Marco would probably rather not remember.

Everything seems to be going fine—the music sounds better with the slight buzz in her head after all, and the place seems to have this faded soft glow altogether whenever Aster blinks. She's warm from the beer and her jacket and Nico's leaned against her, just as buzzed. They're sitting in a stairwell off the side, smoking and watching the crowd dancing out on the patio, laughing at something Aster doesn't quite remember.

"Can I ask you something," asks Nico at some point. She doesn't sound too sober, but she doesn't sound too drunk either.

Aster nods slowly. "Sure," she says. "What is it?"

Nico takes a drag off a slightly shaky hand—or had Aster simply imagined that? Aster blinks, unsure, watching Nico compose herself. "Look. I've been thinking about this—and I really don't know how else to do this, so I'll just go ahead and ask: Is there..." Nico cuts herself off, tapping her foot nervously. "I mean. You know. You have someone back at home. Right?"

Aster feels the alcohol drain from her brain at the question. "Sorry—what?"

Nico shakes her head, eyes widening so comically slow, looking all too sober now herself. If it weren't for the question, Aster would have laughed, but no—there is nothing else in Aster's chest but the mad thumping of her heart.

"No— _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have—it's too intrusive, isn't it?"

"No—I. Sorry," Aster apologizes in turn, mouth dry. "I was just—I was just surprised, is all."

"You don't have to answer that. Forget I even asked it."

 _How even would I answer, anyway?_ Aster scans her brain for something to say, but all she sees in her mind's eye is Ellie Chu—picking up her book from the hallway floor; looking at her painting with a furrowed brow; sitting inside the booth at the train tracks.

Half-submerged in the water, wide-eyed. Looking out the window of her car on the drive back from the lake. Standing at the door of the church. Dropping her bike and running toward her, and—

Aster blinks. "It's okay," she says, shaking her head. She buys herself some time by taking a long quiet drag from her own cigarette. "I'm just—I'm wondering what brought this on."

"Nothing," says Nico, too immediate to be honest. "Maybe I'm just a little curious."

Aster tries a laugh. The sound still comes out a bit wrong, but it's a start. "Can't fault you for that." And then, after another long pause: "You're probably right. There _is_ someone."

Nico takes a moment herself before answering with an equally tentative, " _Probably?_ "

"Distance makes people unsure," says Aster. A half-truth, if anything. "It's complicated."

Nico sighs, finishing her cig and stubbing it against a stair's edge. "It must be, yes," she just says, standing up and extending her hand to Aster. "You ready to go home?"

Aster looks up, meeting Nico's smile, trying to ignore for a moment the resignation there as she takes her hand. " _Yes,_ please."

;;

The drive back is quiet. Marco drops them both off near Aster's place, and Nico promises Jess that she'd walk Aster to her door first before heading off, despite Aster's protestations.

At the door, Nico hangs back, like she's waiting for Aster to disappear into the dorms.

"Hey Nico," Aster calls out, hand on the door knob. "You'll never really tell me why you asked, no?"

Nico shakes her head; her smile is still sad, and it still feels something like a punch in the gut. "A girl's gotta keep her dignity, you know."

"Well then," says Aster. "I hope you have a good term break?"

Nico nods, albeit tentatively. "You, too."

"Who knows, maybe I'll have a clearer answer for you when we see each other afterwards."

Nico's hand comes up to clutch at her chest, right above her heart. "Not sure if that's going to make me feel any better, or just all the more crushed but—yeah. Clarity! Right?"

"Right." Aster bites her lip. She doesn't want to think of this as heartbreak—but why does it feel like she's watching something so close to it? "So. Good night."

"Good night, Flores," Nico just says, her tone betraying nothing. _A girl's gotta keep her dignity, you know._ Before Aster can say anything else, Nico has already turned around to keep walking, hands stuffed in both her pockets, whistling softly in the night.

;;

_Dear Aster,_

_Happy to report that by the time you receive this letter, I will probably have already finished my first term here—and in all likelihood, you have as well! So please accept my congratulations. I hope your exams and submissions went smoothly. The tail-end of my term did have its share of hijinks—internet disruptions, misspelled email addresses, that sort—but nothing too major, thank goodness._

_Anyway—are there end-of-term parties as well where you are? Not to imply that I have been able to join any here, just that I know they must be plenty. I think they're just not my scene, and I don't trust myself around red cups at all. In any case, I hope you were able to enjoy yours, if you attended any._

_I did enjoy, however, the campus radio's end-of-term program—they had Chicago (!!!) and the Carpenters and Bread, Joni Mitchell and Fleetwood Mac. I listened as the college closed for the afternoon, sunset and all. It was quite nice—I wish you'd been there to experience it._

_Speaking of term break—I'm actually scheduled to be in Squahamish for a bit. My father misses me (though he'd never be caught saying it) and, to be honest, I could use a bit of Paul's weird cooking. I also have to check that he hasn't overfed my dad—I don't think I've ever seen him fat, AT ALL. I suppose this remains to be seen._

_What I'm trying to say is—well. This isn't a couple of years on, not just yet, and I'm not trying to override any of your term break plans or anything, but if you ever find yourself on your way back to Squahamish in the next couple of weeks—if you could, I'd appreciate a message._

_Oh, and I doubt you'd need this, but I put together a playlist for you—perhaps something for the ride home:[bit.ly/dear-Aster-Flores](https://bit.ly/dear-Aster-Flores)._

_See you?_

_Ellie_

_P.S. Still SmithCorona!_

;;

Aster stares at her phone, considering Ellie's postscript. While Aster hasn't deleted the app, she hasn't been on it either—in a fit of rage, she had deleted their thread, only to end up regretting it greatly, considering how much she had invested in it. Since then, she has avoided it for the most part, as it only reminded her of her impulsiveness.

Aster shakes her head—all in the past now, and duly forgiven. Right now, all she can think about is how nice it is, to have a conversation; to have someone picking up where you left off. Writing letters to Ellie throughout this term has made Aster feel... _comfortably tethered._ Like they're two objects in a secure orbit, connected despite the distance. Aster smiles, thinking about slipping in that thought in her next letter; Ellie would probably enjoy a good space metaphor.

Only there is no time for another letter—not really. She takes a final look at her phone before finally swiping it open.

"Hey there, SmithCorona," she types. "Thank you for the playlist! Are you back in Squahamish?" And then, delighted by the blinking dots of Ellie's ongoing response, Aster appends: "See you soon."


	4. buzzcut season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie is home for term break. How about an Ellie POV chapter? Yes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took quite a bit because I had to keep putting it down and walking away from it HAHAHA. I have missed writing about idiot girls in love; it's been a while, so pardon the rust. Here it is though, fresh off the proofreaders. Thank you C for putting up with it, as always. Enjoy! :)

Ellie plugs in her earphones and looks out the train window, settling in for the long ride. How fast the days have gone—not too long ago, she was also here, but perhaps a different person entirely. She wonders if most college freshmen feel like this on their way home on their first term break—like they'd shed some old skin, and have been irrevocably changed. Naive as it may sound, that is exactly how she feels, right this moment.

She's listening to the playlist she made for Aster, and she can't help the smile that spreads slowly across her lips. She remembers how _casually_ she'd tried to slip that in when she wrote her last letter— _How revealing,_ she belatedly realized, _how open and raw and honest._

But then again, not like that kiss had been such a secretive move. _Touché, Ellie Chu,_ she tells herself.

Ellie shuffles through the tracks—there's Lorde singing about reeling through midnight streets, Taylor singing about dancing around kitchens in the refrigerator light, and Broken Social Scene singing about a seventeen-year-old girl.

And then of course, there's England Dan— _who'd really love to see you tonight_. 

_Same,_ Ellie just thinks, letting the track play through. She reaches into her bag for her envelope of Aster's letters and takes out the Polaroid, lifting it so that it would be illuminated by the light coming in from the window. Outside, the world passes by in a blur.

;;

_When the letter first lands in her mailbox, she thinks it must be a prank. That, or a hallucination. She picks it up and stuffs it in her bag without so much as looking at it again, afraid it'd disappear if she examined it a bit longer. She's already knee-deep in school work—she doesn't need this sort of distraction._

_Back in her room later that night, she puts the envelope on her table and stares at it. There they are—their names in a script she knows so well, she can barely believe it. She turns it over and proceeds to open the flap carefully, before unfolding the letter she finds within._

Dear Ellie, _the first few words read._ Oh my god, _Ellie thinks, pausing._

 _It_ is _Aster._

;;

_Ellie likes to think she's often fairly quick to think on her feet, and could normally come up with an immediate response when called for, but Aster's short letter had been enough to obliterate all thought in her head. Writing Aster a letter had occurred to her, once or twice, but she'd been hampered by school work, mostly._

_That, and the fact that she left Squahamish before she could ask Aster for her address. Bless Paul for actually thinking it was a good idea to use_ her _address as an excuse to talk to Aster at some point._

_"You're not mad, are you?" asks Paul during one of their phone calls. Since he has volunteered to keep her father company, it was but natural that he would be one of the relationships Ellie carried to Grinnell with her._

_"Me, mad?" Ellie laughs wryly, holding Aster's letter in her other hand. "That Aster is writing to me? Hell no. Thank you."_

_"Oh," says Paul, laughing louder now that he's more comfortable. "You're welcome." And then, "What did she say?"_

_Ellie makes a noncommittal noise. "Just generic How are you's," she lies. No need to tell Paul about the yearning that practically jumps out of the page, or the way Ellie's heart dropped to the floor at the realization that Aster has been trying to write to her for so long._

_"Huh," says Paul. "I thought she'd be saying more. Art school and all. Anyway—your dad's dumplings are the bomb—how are they so good? Is it a family recipe?"_

_Ellie laughs. "Probably? I mean, it's been that way forever." And then, more quietly: "You guys doing okay over there?"_

_At the other end of the line, Paul takes a deep breath, clearing his throat the way he does when he shifts from joking around to being serious. "Uh, yeah," he says. "We're doing great. How about—how about you? I mean—aside from the Aster panic."_

_"I am not—this is not 'panic'," Ellie insists, and just like that, they're laughing again, warm and comfortable over the phone._

_Ellie may have spent the first decade and a half of her life without a sibling, but now, she thinks, she knows a good thing or two about what it must feel like to have a brother._

;;

Paul meets her at the station, excited like a puppy. She sees him first, scanning the crowd in an old Moose jersey, brows knit in concentration. She springs herself at him in surprise: A small yelp followed by a big howl, as Paul picks her up and _whirls_ her around, laughing.

"Oh, I'm—uh, sorry," says Paul, lowering her slowly, suddenly self-conscious. "It's just—it's good to see you."

Ellie composes herself, tugging at her backpack and giving Paul a weak punch in the arm. "You too," she says.

Her father is waiting for her when they make the short walk over—Paul greets him with a high-five before entering with Ellie's bags on each shoulder. Ellie just gives him a quizzical look, to which her father just shrugs in response.

They eat dinner together in front of the television—Paul helps her father serve it, a combination of dumplings and tacos, "Because you probably missed both," he tells her.

Truth be told, she kind of has.

Talk is sparse—just like old times. Not that Ellie minds; she's missed this comfortable sort of quiet too. In university, people liked talking... _a lot._ As if it were the minimum requirement for existing; of representing any sort of _value._ It could be exhausting sometimes, how conversations eventually turned into performances, and soon enough, Ellie tired of listening to people who spoke just for the sake of hearing themselves speak.

Paul starts up the conversation every now and then, telling Ellie about their taco shop and pinch-hitting as an assistant coach for the Moose sometimes, in between bites. "Once, your dad joined me on my jog," he beams proudly, and when Ellie looks over at her dad, he's massaging his knee absently.

"Oh really," she says, absent smile on her face. "How did that go?"

Paul pauses, thinking. "Um. Good," he says, nodding. "Slow." When Ellie starts laughing, she is surprised to hear her father laughing along, however softly. "But that's still good. You should come join us while you're here, you know."

"Actually—"

"Agree*,*" her father chimes in, still smiling. "Us three."

Ellie blinks, unsure how to feel about being ganged upon _while in the middle of dinner._ She takes a look at her dad, who is looking back at her with a _lightness_ she hasn't seen in years, and right there she decides to just go with it.

;;

On her first night back, Ellie cannot sleep, so she takes out her guitar and tries a few chords. She hasn't played in so long, she almost wonders—what if it's possible to forget such things? _Don't be silly,_ she chastises herself. _It's muscle memory._

True enough, she soon catches her stride, idly plucking through familiar tunes. Before long, she's already flipping through an old music book, playing through even more old favorites, and pleasantly settling into their accompanying memories.

She's going through her song for last year's talent show when her phone beeps on the table. Her heart lurches; she's not expecting messages, not this late in the night, until the realization hits her: _Aster._

Her blood stays frozen in her veins for the next few moments before she wills herself to move and get it.

_**DiegaRivero:** Hey there, SmithCorona. Thank you for the playlist! Are you back in Squahamish?_

Aster's dots are still going when Ellie starts typing. _Hey yourself,_ she begins, pausing as she reads the rest of Aster's message:

_**DiegaRivero:** See you soon._

Ellie feels her stomach drop. _See you soon._ Is Aster already in Squahamish? "Hey yourself," she sends out first, getting ahold of herself. "I actually just got back. How are you?"

 _How are you? Really??_ Ellie screws her eyes shut. She'd run this exact same scenario in her head countless times, ever since she first suggested they get back on this app—a request that had gone unheeded, _until this moment._ And just like that—all those imagined scenarios, wiped out of her mind.

_**DiegaRivero:** Couldn't sleep. You?_

Ellie bites her lip, breathing in. _How does she do this??_ "Always the night owl," she says. "Couldn't sleep myself." And then, as Aster's dots come to life, "Are you already back?"

When Aster's dots disappear, Ellie almost drops her phone. _Now you've done it, Chu. Too soon for that!_

_**DiegaRivero:** Not yet, but soon._

_**DiegaRivero:** How's Squahamish? How's your Dad?_

_**DiegaRivero:** How's Paul?_

Ellie smiles, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of disappointment at the edge of her mind upon hearing that Aster has yet to come home. "Same old," she says. "My dad is well, and so is Paul. They've actually reached the point where they could already gang up on me. Is that good or bad?"

_**DiegaRivero:** You definitely had it coming :P Can't be too bad though._

_**DiegaRivero:** And you?_

_**DiegaRivero:** How are you? How was your trip?_

Ellie stands up and heads to her window, opening it to let the breeze in, trying to clear her head. After a term's worth of letters—and under their rightful names, this time—she had reason to believe that they've established a certain... _closeness._

And surely, they've been asking this same question of each other, back and forth, but right here—in this small screen in her hand—Aster feels so much... _closer._ It makes breathing somewhat harder. "Secret hour?" she types in reply. _Muscle memory._ "Traveling is exhausting."

_**DiegaRivero:** Sorry to hear :( Want to talk about it?_

"Didn't want to make you anxious for _your_ trip," says Ellie. "Which is when, by the way?"

_**DiegaRivero:** Tomorrow. Still have to pack, actually._

"Oh," Ellie replies. "Am I disturbing you?"

_**DiegaRivero:** Not at all. It's always nice talking to you._

_**DiegaRivero:** Thank you for your letters. I think they were what got me through this term._

Ellie leans her forehead against the wall, biting the inside of her cheek hard. She kinda wants to scream; like her feelings need some wide open space. "And thank you for yours," she says. "I quite enjoyed them, too."

_**DiegaRivero:** So which is better? Letters or texting?_

"That's an unfair question," says Ellie. "They each have their own merits."

_**DiegaRivero:** I like it better when the replies come instantly. What does that say about my emotional quotient?_

"I think some anticipation is good for you," Ellie replies. "Some things are worth the wait." It's sent before she could even think about it; her cheeks burn upon re-read. _Shit._

_**DiegaRivero:** You know what, you make a very good point._

_**DiegaRivero:** Hey, listen. My suitcase is unfortunately not going to fix itself, so—I have to say goodbye for now._

_**DiegaRivero:** Or I think that should be good night—Good night, Ellie. Rest well from your long trip!_

"Oh right—go fix that and make sure you don't forget anything," says Ellie. "Good night, Aster."

_**DiegaRivero:** Talk in the morning?_

Ellie sighs, preparing to move away from the window to sink into her bed. Outside, houses have begun shutting off their lights, turning in for the night. _Good night, Squahamish._ "Of course," she says. "See you tomorrow?"

She falls asleep before the reply comes.

;;

That night, Ellie dreams of the springs.

The water is warm and the leaves are falling. They stand side-by-side, half-submerged, shoulders touching but only lightly. Ellie talks about gravity, looking up at the sky. It doesn't feel as lonely.

Aster turns to her, hair wet: _Do you remember now?_

_Remember what?_

_Who said that bit about gravity. Do you remember?_

In the dream, Ellie just shakes her head, staring at Aster's lips as she comes closer and closer, warm water splashing between them as they close the space, and then.

When Ellie wakes up, she is drenched in sweat, her heartbeat loud.

;;

Paul and her father drag her out for the jog as expected, and as equally expected, Ellie resists in vain.

"Really? On my first morning back?" she asks, yawning.

"No day but today," says Paul, beaming at her. He even has a whistle around his neck to complete that _jock-turned-coach_ look and all considered, it's actually adorable.

When her father emerges in his joggers and running shoes, Ellie tries very hard not to lose it. _What has Paul done to her father??_ "Dad?" she says, swallowing down her laugh. "You ready?"

Her father just nods, before motioning to the door and pocketing his keys on the way out.

"What did you do to him?" Ellie deadpans at Paul, whacking his arm.

Paul shrugs, putting an arm lightly around her as he tries to usher her out the door with him. "He's actually, um, athletic now," he says. "Plus: Running is good for the heart! Listen: We'll go a couple of quick laps around the block, OK? Nothing too far."

Ellie mock-glares at him as he locks the front door. "Promise?"

"I promise." And then, "We should probably join your dad in stretching."

It's a surreal experience mostly, working out with Paul and her dad—if it could be called 'working out'. Ellie did _not_ work out; biking was already enough exercise for her for the most part, thank you. Jogging is bad on her knees, but for the sake of her dad's enjoyment—because he really does seem like he's enjoying all this movement—Ellie keeps going, trying to keep up with Paul's long strides.

They run into Aster when they least expect it—post-jog and sweaty. Ellie feels her chest drop at the sight of her as their crew rounds the corner. _Of course_ , she berates herself. _What did I expect? That Aster would magically stop being infuriatingly breathtaking in the months between? That's just—that's—_

"Oh. Hi Aster," Paul greets, slowing to a stop. Ellie, unable to take her eyes off her, promptly collides against his back. "Shit. Sorry."

"Hey Paul," Aster greets, but she holds Ellie's eyes all the while. "Hey Ellie."

All of it brings Ellie back to the hallway and her books on the floor. "Hi," she just ends up saying. "When did—when did you get in?"

"Just now," she says. _Had Aster sought her out right away?_ "You guys workout buddies already?"

"Oh, most definitely not—"

"You're most welcome to join us—"

Ellie elbows Paul, glaring at him. "Remember when I said I was being ganged upon?" she asks Aster.

Aster's eyes widen, amused. "You were being bullied into _running?_ " she asks, before giving in to a laugh. The sound, as expected, short-circuits Ellie; it has been all too long since she last heard it. Aster then turns to Paul: "Stop bullying her!" she says, still grinning.

 _Mother of God._ Ellie tries to obscure her face behind one of Paul's biceps; the blush on her face must already be so embarrassing.

"Yes ma'am," says Paul, doing a mock-salute.

"You with the Moose coaching staff now?" asks Aster, perhaps noting the small 'coach' on his shirt.

"Yeah," Paul nods. "How are you?"

Aster shrugs, still smiling. "Pretty good," she says. "Great to be back."

There's an awkward pause between them. Off the side, Ellie's father continues his post-jog stretching quietly. "I should probably—" Paul begins, pointing to the man stretching not too far away. "Join. That."

Laughing, Aster agrees. "You probably should," she says, waving as Paul walks away.

Which leaves Ellie alone with Aster—now with no one's bicep to hide her face.

"Hi," says Aster, softer now. _Here we go again,_ Ellie tells herself. She's imagined this moment before, too; listed things to possibly say, all that jazz. Now her head feels indescribably light. Empty. Like everything inside of her is all _heart_ and nothing else.

Ellie squints when she tries to look at Aster; the attempt feels like looking at the sun. "Hey," she says in return. "You're—you're _here._ "

Aster takes a step closer. Ellie feels her knees freeze. "Yeah." And then: "How's your morning jog?"

"Not as— _bad_ as expected," she admits. "Paul probably went easy on us this morning."

"I don't think he's supposed to drive you like his football trainees," says Aster, by now close enough to nudge her with an elbow. Her presence feels warm—comfortable, actually. Ellie leans closer, unable to hold herself back. "Do you have plans for this morning?" Aster asks.

Ellie looks at Paul and her dad, huddled together as they reach for the sky before reaching for the ground, and up again. "Um, I don't think so," she just says. "I just—I actually wanted to sleep in."

"Want to nap in my car?"

 _Good grief,_ Ellie thinks, suddenly intensely awake. _This girl is actively trying to kill me._ "You just got here," she says eventually, gathering herself. "I'm not just going to sleep on you."

"That's great to hear because I'm _starving,_ " says Aster, looping her arm around Ellie's lazily. "What do you say?"

Ellie blinks before nodding, letting herself be drawn away. _Day 1 of Aster Flores in Squahamish,_ she just tells herself, trying not to overthink the warmth of their interlinked arms.

_How am I ever going to survive this term break?_


	5. i know places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in this! This took a bit of time at the reviewers + needed a bit of recasting. Hopefully this is more readable now. I'm glad y'all are feeling Ellie's gay uselessness haha :)) Aster is such a force of nature -- who wouldn't be, right? ;)

Had anybody told Ellie last year she'd one day be sitting across Aster Flores for _breakfast,_ she would have laughed in their faces—but here they are now, doing that very thing.

Ellie rubs at her eyes for good measure—just to make sure it isn't a dream.

"Sleepyhead," says Aster, smiling into her plate of waffles. "You ok?"

"Oh, um," says Ellie, a bit embarrassed at getting caught. "Yeah. Sorry." Her face feels warm, just looking at Aster in this light. _Why am I so helpless at this,_ she thinks, mentally apologizing for all the times she ever thought she'd do better than Paul. "Just—you know. Catching my breath." _Holy shit, I am worse than Paul at this._

When Aster laughs, Ellie picks up her coffee cup and tries to hide her face and the full-on blush that's definitely spreading across it. The early morning sun filtering through the diner's window is pleasantly warm, falling upon their hands, fingertips scratching absently at the tabletop and idly touching.

"Take your time," Aster says. "I mean, we've got plenty."

Ellie puts her cup down gingerly, blinking. _Did I hear that right?_ "We do?"

Aster nods, smiling briefly before frowning at a belated realization. "Unless, of course—"

_Oh. OH._

In her panic, Ellie ends up gripping at Aster's hand on the table more decisively. " _Oh,_ " she says out loud. "Of course—of _course."_ Confirmed: Ellie is bad at this. _Oh fuck it._ "No—I mean. Uh, yes? I mean—what do you have in mind?"

"Hey," Aster says, eyeing their hands and tightening her grip in kind. "I just want to catch up. That's all." And then, "We can take it easy."

_Easy._ Ellie relaxes her hold, hand settling softly in Aster's. For a moment, she tries to clear her head—no assumptions, no rationalizations, nothing. Just this: the feel of this hand, warm around hers. For all of Ellie's imaginings, she hasn't quite reached this specific what if— _what if Aster wanted to hang out again?_

"Sorry," Ellie offers, trying not to get distracted by Aster's idle rubbing. "I'm just—not good at this."

Aster laughs, small and soft, covering their joined hands with her free one. The touch burns, Ellie could tell; it roots her in place. "Believe me—neither am I," she says. "I'm just making it up as I go along, you know?" She opens up Ellie's hand and looks at her palm, tracing its lines and dips. "Oh wait. Speaking of making things."

Aster reaches into her bag and takes out an envelope. "I made this for you," she says, handing it to Ellie, who tries not to immediately tear it open. Instead, she lifts the flap carefully and slowly takes out the card she finds inside—one of Aster's paintings, a beautiful view of a grassy field with a lonely bench under a tree.

"Oh," says Ellie softly. "Thank you for this." And then, touching the painting's surface gingerly: "This bench adds this sense of... not necessarily loneliness, but solitude. Where is this?"

Aster leans closer, like she's trying to remember what this work looked like. "Our library actually stands in the middle of a sunken field," she says. "The same field is lined with huge trees, and under one of those trees is this particular bench. I stop by and sit sometimes, just... staring at the field. I thought it would be great to paint it from the other side."

"It's amazing," says Ellie. "I love it." And then, after a pause: "I'd love to watch you paint sometime."

This time, it's Aster's turn to be flustered; she bristles and bites down on her lip. "Oh," she says. "I..."

"Only if you're comfortable, of course," Ellie is quick to append. "But, you know. Just registering general... _interest._ "

Aster smiles. "General interest noted," she says. And then, looking Ellie in the eye: "Wanna get out of here?"

;;

Talk surprisingly comes easier once they're inside Aster's car. It is exactly as Ellie remembers, but with a lighter, less tense air. They roll the windows down to take in the pleasant chill in the air. Aster starts talking about her trip, and thanks Ellie again for her playlist. "It was a great companion," she says. "You have fantastic taste."

"Um, thanks," says Ellie. "Glad you enjoyed that—means it has served its purpose."

They don't talk about it, but Ellie knows this route—she sticks her head out to breathe in the breeze, fingertips catching the wind.

After a moment of quiet, Aster clears her throat. Ellie turns her head and watches her, throat moving as she swallows hard. "Do you mind?" Aster asks, eyeing the pack of cigarettes on the dashboard that Ellie has been _itching_ to ask about since she noticed it upon getting in. "I mean—I don't have to, if you do."

Ellie wonders how this has not come up in any of their letters—not that she feels entitled to this information, it's just... _surprising._ Considering. "Actually," Ellie begins, thinking, *fuck it—*for the nth time today. "I don't mind having one if you are."

She watches as the expression on Aster's face shifts from worry to confusion to _delight._ "Ellie Chu," she says, sly smile playing at the corner of her lips. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Ellie tries a smile in return as she reaches for the pack herself, sliding a stick out to hand over to Aster. "You're one to talk," she says. "Got a light?"

"Here," Aster says, taking the car cigarette lighter out. "I think it still works." Ellie leans in to light hers, waiting as the tip crackles softly to life. "Does your father know?"

Ellie takes a drag, blowing out the window. "Oh, hell no," she says. "I have been on a smoking hiatus since I got here." She takes the lighter from Aster's hand and lights hers. "I'd been bracing myself for an entire break without it."

"Honestly, I was... _worried._ About telling you," Aster admits. "About what you'd think."

Ellie mirrors Aster as she hangs her cigarette-holding hand out the window. "Even if I didn't, you know—I'd be the last person to judge you for it," Ellie assures her. "I'd be the last person to judge you for _anything._ I promise."

"Thanks," says Aster, sighing. Ellie tries not to stare as the smoke exits her lips in thin wisps. "You're sweet. You know that, right?"

_Only with you,_ she almost replies, before swallowing down the words. "I'm just trying to be a good friend," she says instead. _Really? We're going with that instead?_

"Who's to say friends can't be sweet?" says Aster in return. "Hold on, we're almost there."

Ellie looks back out the window, slightly surprised at the sight that greets her as Aster rolls slowly to a stop. Instead of the familiar clearing, Aster has brought her elsewhere entirely: A viewing spot overlooking Squahamish.

"How do you know about these things?" asks Ellie, wide-eyed as she steps out of the car.

"Let's just say a former life pushed me to drive around a lot, looking for quiet places," she says, settling down carefully on the hood of her car and finishing up her cig.

"How many secret places do you have up your sleeve, Aster Flores?" asks Ellie, sliding in right beside her, just as Aster hands the pack over. Ellie lights a fresh one quickly off her cig's fading glow.

"Stick around long enough and maybe you'll find out," says Aster, tilting her head toward Ellie, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her smile. "Light please?"

_Oh._ She feels so close, and Ellie feels warm _everywhere._ She pushes herself to stay still, despite the pounding in her chest. Under this shade, the flickering of their joined cigarettes between their cupped hands casts a brief, precious glow across Aster's face. For all of Ellie's solo smoke breaks, this is actually her first time to light someone else's cigarette this way; a rare moment to enjoy someone's nicotine-influenced company.

"Is this why people like smoking in small groups?" Ellie asks out loud. "I've never—I only ever smoked alone. It helps me think more clearly."

"Really?" Aster asks. "Your friends don't smoke?"

"They do—I mean, that's how I picked it up," she explains. "But I never really got the charm of cigarette breaks as socialization."

Aster lies back against her windshield and looks up at the clouds past the shade of the tree. "How about now?" she asks.

"Are you kidding me?" asks Ellie. "I wish I could have a break like this in Grinnell every single afternoon." _This. You. But mostly, you._ Ellie bites down on her tongue.

Aster laughs, the sound lazy, relaxed; like a cat stretching in the sun. "What a view, huh?"

"Well. The company's not so bad, either."

Ellie lies back with her and they smoke in quiet for a while, shoulders brushing against each other, thankful for the shade of this tree. Beyond it, the clouds start to part, letting the sun through the leaves. Aster turns to her side, propping herself up with an elbow against the glass. "Thanks for coming out with me today," she says.

Ellie swallows hard as she takes another slow drag, trying to keep the tremor out of her hand. "Thanks for letting me come with," she says. "Not sure what I did to deserve this level of access to these secret places—but I'm always grateful."

"I'm grateful, too," says Aster. "It feels wonderful. Having someone."

If Ellie could bottle a feeling, it would be this one: Sitting here atop a car parked on a cliff overlooking their hometown, with the sun up but the wind cool, on an endless smoke break with a girl she's dying to kiss again.

;;

Aster drops by often enough that at some point over table tennis, Paul asks her if they're dating.

"What? No," Ellie says, running after the ball she's just missed as it bounces across the floor. "I, uh. I don't know?"

"You don't know?" Paul asks.

"We... _hang out._ "

"Are there fries involved?"

Ellie gives him a look. "Paul."

"You know what I mean," says Paul, laughing as he tries to keep his volleys steady. "I mean—I know you're really into her."

Ellie lets out a small frustrated growl as she misses a shot again. "That doesn't mean I can't be a friend to her," she says, starting up their rally again. "Besides, it could be— _distracting_."

"What?"

"What do you mean, _what?_ "

"I mean—the distraction," says Paul. "You told me you've been writing each other, and that it helped you through the term. I think that's the opposite of distracting."

Ellie considers Paul's observation; as he could be sometimes, he is, once again, infuriatingly spot-on. "It's comfortable. Where we are," she says. "I don't want to push it."

"Push it where?"

" _Paul._ " Ellie returns the ball a bit harder than she's supposed to; it hits the far edge of the table and bounces off the wall behind Paul. "I just— _dating._ How do you even know—how is this so much harder for lesbians??"

"I honestly thought you'd have a much easier time—I mean, you're the writer!"

"Honestly, I didn't—I didn't know what to expect," Ellie admits, voice soft. "She caught me off-guard, I didn't—I mean, why would she, right?"

"Hey," says Paul, catching the ball as it bounces off the table. "Why _wouldn't_ she? You're smart, and very patient, and actually very fun to hang out with. Don't sell yourself short, Chu."

For a moment, Ellie is taken aback; sometimes, Paul _does_ have his moments. "Oh. Thanks," she says. And then, narrowing her eyes at him, "If you ever try to kiss me again—"

"It was THAT one time, I already said sorry, jeez!"

Ellie just laughs, ducking to avoid the ping pong ball that Paul throws at her.

;;

Some days she and Aster talk on the phone, on and off throughout—while manning the booth in her dad's stead, running some errands in town, or reading at home. Ellie is restless, mostly; who knew she wouldn't know how to take a break from years and years of just _going and going?_

For the first time in _forever_ , she notices finally how time moves much more slowly in Squahamish—the hours feel like _days,_ and _where was all this again, when I needed the time to cram in Grinnell?_ Ellie wonders, staring at the lights of houses flicker on and off in the night.

She's still squinting at the night lights when her phone beeps on her table.

**_DiegaRivero:_** Still up?

Ellie smiles. Right on cue, here's Aster, checking in for the night. "Yup," she replies. "You okay?"

**_DiegaRivero:_** Yeah.

**_DiegaRivero:_** Wanna go somewhere tomorrow?

Ellie feels her heart drop; she's been trying to push away all this _feeling_ that **she couldn't wrap her head around. "Of course," she says, trying to play it cool. "No errands tomorrow?"

**_DiegaRivero:_** Finally finished, thank God.

**_DiegaRivero:_** Anything you have scheduled tomorrow? I can drive you?

"Oh, no—no need for that," says Ellie, making sure to type quickly. "Wherever you want."

**_DiegaRivero:_** Careful what you wish for ;)

**_DiegaRivero:_** Pardon the emoji?

"Emoji forgiven," says Ellie, thankful that Aster isn't seeing the embarrassing goofy smile she has on right now. "Any clue where you're taking us?"

**_DiegaRivero:_** I was hoping I could surprise you.

_Oh._ Ellie falls back on her bed, trying to steady the growing pounding in her chest. "Fine, I'll let you keep your secret for now," she says. "But I'm buying us brunch."

**_DiegaRivero:_** It's a date then.

**_DiegaRivero:_** Good night, Ellie :)

;;

Ellie tries not to overthink it. _Just a thing people say, isn't that,_ she thinks. _It's a date! A turn of phrase. Somebody's metaphor for scheduled things._

_It doesn't have to mean anything._

When Aster rolls around that morning with her windows down, Ellie holds her breath. _God,_ she thinks. _This girl really wakes up like that huh?_ She blinks as the car stops in front of her, and Aster clambers out of her door to come around and actually greet her.

"Hey," says Aster, smiling as she leans back on her car. She has an arm extended, like she's beckoning Ellie to come closer—which of course, she does. "You ready?" When Ellie is close enough, Aster wraps a hand around her wrist lightly and tugs.

Ellie's knees are good as gone, but she has half a mind to inch closer. "Yeah," she manages. "Are you hungry?"

"I could use some breakfast," says Aster. This close, Ellie could not think of anything else, apart from, _I could fall so easily. Like this._ At some point, Aster opens the passenger door and breaks the spell, if only to usher Ellie inside.

Breakfast is coffee and waffles—Aster's choice, of course. Ellie doesn't mind; she'd eat _paper_ if it meant sitting across Aster on a morning just like this, listening to her talk about last night's dream.

"Do you ever dream about the same place twice?" she asks.

"Like, recurring settings?" Ellie asks in turn. "Common places maybe—like school, or our house, or the station." _Or the spring. Most definitely the spring, all the effin' time._

"No, I mean—a completely made up place," Aster continues. Ellie puts down her coffee cup and leans in, head tilted as if to say, _Go on._ "Mine's this—beach resort, I think? A hotel by the sea that I've never really been to before, but my brain likes going back to time and again. Weird right?"

"Not at all," says Ellie. "What else do you remember?"

Aster looks out the window, like she's contemplating the question. "I remember feeling—very _familiar,_ about where I was. I was moving freely around the beach, the hotel. I think I kind of worked there? I was painting this huge wall mural at the entrance—"

"Still painting in your dream, I see," Ellie interjects in jest.

"Which brings me to my sort of surprise for you today."

Ellie narrows her eyes at her. "Are we headed for the beach?"

"Oh, I wish!" Aster laughs. "Sorry, not quite—but I hope this is just as good." She reaches into her bag and takes out her sketchbook, her pencil case, and a tray of paint. "I was wondering if we could go and paint today."

Ellie feels her eyes widen in barely repressed glee. "Are you _kidding_ me?" she asks, already giddy. "Are you letting me—"

"Yes," says Aster. "Because you asked, and—well. I've missed painting anyway. Probably why I was dreaming about it."

_Bless this woman's subconscious._ "Probably," Ellie just echoes. "So—where are _we_ painting?"

Aster smiles, like she's about to spill an irresistible secret. "You'll see."

Back in the car, Ellie sticks her head out to feel the wind in her face, as she is wont to do whenever Aster is driving; it's all she could do, lest she spend the drive trying not to get caught while staring at Aster's profile as she drove. It's for the best; it's what her poor heart can handle.

When Aster pulls up right by the clearing, it dawns on Ellie, where they're heading.

"We're painting at the spring," says Ellie, voice soft. Aster just nods, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder and slipping her other hand into Ellie's as she walks ahead of her, leading her in.

Ellie remembers this place differently—this time around, it feels more... _spacious._ Like the trees are not closing in on her. Like she could breathe. Aster leads them to a space near the water, where they could sit and lay a mat for Aster's art materials.

"No swimming?" Ellie asks, a bit nervous.

"Maybe later," Aster replies, already busy with sketching. Ellie tries to keep still beside her, reaching over for Aster's pack of cigarettes, haphazardly tucked into her back pocket.

"How do you manage to _hide_ your cigarettes?" Ellie wonders aloud, waiting for Aster's acknowledging look before lighting up. "I think I'm having mild withdrawal."

Aster smiles at her. "You sure that's the cigs?" she teases, and Ellie feels her face go cold and then immeasurably warm in a split-second. Aster laughs, touching Ellie's arm. "Sorry. I was only teasing you."

"Right," Ellie blinks, taking a drag before turning away to blow smoke. When she looks back, she can see Aster's work in progress—a view of the spring from where they're seated. _A record of today._ Ellie feels warm all over again.

"Do you know how I started smoking?" Aster begins talking, not looking up from her canvas. "Jess taught me. You remember Jess?"

"Not the one who's into you?" Ellie ventures.

Aster laughs. "Not the descriptor I was hoping you'd remember but— _yes_ ," she says. "The first thing she told me was that one day I'll hate her for it, but she went ahead anyway."

"You think you'd ever kick this?" asks Ellie, holding up her lit cigarette, now halfway through.

Aster shrugs. "Maybe? Sooner or later, I guess," she says. "It was—I was eager to try something new, you know? Like something Squahamish Aster wouldn't even think about."

"To be fair to _Squahamish Aster,_ " Ellie interrupts, putting her name in air quotes, "She could pretty much do anything she ever sets her mind to."

"Even if it's onboarding a new vice no?" asks Aster in return, and Ellie has to respond with a small laugh of her own. "Anyway—Jess and I formed our little routine around smoking behind the library in the afternoons before parting ways and going home, all that. It was—a comfort. Something I looked forward to." Watching past her moving hand, Ellie could see the colors of the forest and the spring slowly coming together. "And then there was Marco."

"The boyfriend," Ellie completes for her. _Was she—was she jealous? Is that what this is about? Is she into Jess?_ Ellie steels her stomach for the rest of it.

"Yeah—and I felt _horrible,_ that I was unable to be completely happy for her, just because we had one dumb ritual that we had to cut back on."

"Hey," says Ellie, reaching out this time to put a hand on Aster's elbow. "Friendship is complicated, and rituals are important to all kinds of relationships—they're not dumb."

Aster pauses mid-stroke and turns her head to look at her. "Thanks," she says. "It's just—I feel like I've been an overall bad friend during our first term."

"I'm sure your other friends would disagree."

Aster laughs. "Oh god," she says, resuming work on her painting; from where Ellie is sitting, she can now make out a bit of sky and wood. "I should tell you about Nico."

"The one who's into you," Ellie supplies again. _I can do this,_ she tells herself, sucking in her stomach further. _I can be this friend._ She reaches the end of her cigarette and promptly crushes it into the ground beside her.

"We attended one of those parties—we'd gotten closer after Jess and Marco got together, like a couple of rejects," she says, pausing to laugh. "Anyway. At some point during the party she asked me—out of curiosity, she said—if I had someone back home."

_What a curious question—an outright assumption?_ "And?"

Aster fills in her outlines with paint carefully, the rhythm of her paintbrush against her tins, the water and her paper so hypnotizing, Ellie catches her eyes defocusing sometimes. "And nothing," Aster says. "She was just curious, she said."

"Oh," says Ellie, blinking. "What did you—what did you say?"

Aster shrugs, eyes focused on her work. "I said yes," she said, so off-handedly like she were merely commenting on the weather. "I mean, it's kind of true. There _is_ someone."

Ellie can't quite gather the words for how _deflated_ she suddenly feels—how defeated. _Come on,_ she scolds herself. _You wanted to be a good friend, didn't you?_ But still, she still feels so gutted and hollowed out. She looks up, trying to see the sky past the foliage; trying to go back to a time when her most complicated question was just about _deciduous trees._

"Ellie?" Aster asks softly, touching Ellie's wrist. "You okay?"

Ellie breathes in, returning to herself. "Oh. Sorry," she says, turning to Aster, trying to ignore the burning on her wrist. "You were saying—there's, um. Someone. Is it—I didn't know you and Trig were still—"

" _Oh._ " The widening of Aster's eyes was comical, to say the least. *"*That's not—no, it's not Trig, most definitely not."

_Oh shit._ "Sorry," says Ellie quickly. "I didn't mean." _Oh god. So does that mean—_ "So, um. You and Paul, then?" _I am hopeless at this, and I kind of want to die._ She digs her fingernails into the mat, right into the ground beneath them, willing for it to open up and swallow her whole.

"What?" Aster looks at her, thoroughly confused, like she's taking a while to parse what Ellie had just said. "Paul? _Oh._ " Aster wraps her hand around Ellie's wrist. "I'm not supposed to curse, but _Jesus Christ,_ Ellie."

Ellie blinks once, then twice in quick succession. It's hard to process all of it—Aster's warm hold, those bright eyes, that fond exasperation in her tone. " _What?_ "

Aster sighs, rubbing at Ellie's arm before releasing her, and then reaching back for her cigarettes. She takes one and hands Ellie another. "Here," she says. "You look like you need one."

_And I do. Quite desperately._ Ellie lights hers with a shaky hand, taking a peek at Aster's almost-finished work—only some additional details and coloring left to do. It's quite beautiful; she hopes Aster would be willing to let her have it, disastrous outcome of this conversation notwithstanding.

"You all right?" Aster asks.

"Sorry," says Ellie. "But—was I misunderstanding something?"

Aster just looks at her like she's trying to weigh carefully whatever she's about to say next. After a moment's pause, she shakes her head, still smiling as she applies the final touches to her piece. "It's complicated," she ends up saying. "But I assure you—it's not about Trig or Paul. At all."

_Oh._ "Oh," Ellie says. "I'm sorry, I didn't—I did not mean to assume." In her chest, something she does not want to acknowledge slowly comes to life— _should I dare allow it to bloom?_ she thinks, reminding herself that there are only two things that bloom: _Flowers and bruises._ She swallows hard at the reminder; either way, she's fairly certain it's going to be worth it. _Oh hope. What a fragile thing._

"It's okay," Aster says, blowing upon her painting briefly before handing it to Ellie. "This is for you, by the way—I hope it meets expectations."

Ellie receives it with a slight tremble. "Are you kidding me? This is _perfect,_ " she says, running her eyes all over the painting before holding it up against the scenery. "What a lovely painting to remember this day by."

"Mhmm," Aster hums. "Something lovely for a lovely person."

There is no swimming that afternoon. After finishing the painting, Aster lies back on the mat and shares the rest of her cigarettes with Ellie, staring up at the sky through the trees—a habit now more than anything.

"El," Aster says after a long quiet moment, voice so soft that Ellie could have missed it. "I meant it, you know. When I said there was someone."

_El._ The nickname rings in her ears. "I know," she just says.

Aster laughs, a small sound. "No, I don't think you do," she says, but not unkindly.

Ellie leaves it be; there's only so much her poor heart could take in a day. Instead, she is content, just feeling the occasional brush of Aster's arm against hers as they smoke in silence, the quiet calm of the forest wrapped around them, like a hug.

;;

Aster sits in at the next table tennis match; Ellie doesn't know who is more nervous between Paul and herself.

"So," Paul ventures first. Ellie eyes him warily, trying to signal quietly, _What the fuck are you doing?_ "You play sports, Aster?"

Aster sits on the stability ball, smiling. "Um, not really, no," she says, bouncing lightly before: "Of course, unless yoga counts."

_Jesus christ._ Ellie misses Paul's volley, just as the visual hits her. Paul laughs and Ellie grumbles as she retrieves the ball. " _Munsky!"_

"Sorry!" says Paul, grinning and flashing a peace sign.

Ellie paddles first this time, and Paul tries to return it with a level force. "How has your vacation been, Aster?" he asks. _At this rate, I am losing this match eventually,_ Ellie thinks glumly. She looks at Paul, who looks focused and sincere, waiting for Aster's response.

"It's been great so far," says Aster. "I've been trying to make the most of it."

Ellie returns Paul's shot, shifting her eyes over at Aster, wondering if she would go into details. _Would she?_ She is distracted long enough to miss the way Paul paddles back. The ball hits the side of the table and shoots out to the side, bouncing over to where Aster is.

Aster picks it up and walks over to Ellie to return it. "Focus, Chu," she teases, placing the ball gently into Ellie's palm and letting her fingertips dance against the surface for a bit before walking back to her seat. Ellie stands there, dazed for a moment.

"You're usually not this bad," Paul jokes. "Stop distracting her, Aster!"

"I am _not,_ " Aster says, but she's laughing anyway.

_These people will be the death of me._ "Are you guys in on this scam together?" asks Ellie, eyes narrowed. "Because I _see you._ "

Paul shakes his head as Aster laughs even louder, the lovely sound echoing off the walls of their small room.

Right here, Ellie can think of nothing else other than, _Maybe I could get used to this._


	6. invisible string

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewinding a bit to go back to Aster's POV. Some parts of this are going to feel familiar, as they are Aster POV retellings of past scenes — hope they're still as enjoyable! Happy to report that the inside of Aster's head is just as messy as Ellie's. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite the quarantine (still is, hereabouts), and I apologize for the delay in this final installment. Found a nice place to end it, but as with everything, it's always open. Thank you very much for joining me on this journey. Til next time. :)

On her trip back to Squahamish, Aster puts Ellie's playlist on shuffle and closes her eyes. It's Hozier, singing about someone new, and Aster can't help smiling, looking out the bus window, watching the scenery pass by.

God, she misses driving; when she gets back to Squahamish, it'd be the first thing she'd do, her dad's schedule be damned. She thinks about driving with her windows down and cigarette out, past familiar streets and Squahamish breeze—

And of course, there's always Ellie.

 _I think some anticipation is good for you._ Ellie's always on point, and sometimes, Aster is still taken by surprise. _Anticipation_ is a good word for this feeling in the bottom of her stomach; that languid roll of lazy expectation at all the things the days ahead could hold.

 _Anticipation_ is a good word for what she feels about seeing Ellie again—this barely repressed emotion of excitement and delight on stand-by.

By the time she gets back to Squahamish, morning has just broken. She loves getting on these dawn trips—the town has just woken and there's so much time ahead. She meets her dad at the station and lets herself be driven home, hoping she'd be let go quickly; as luck would have it, she'd gotten back just as her dad was on his way out for a Sacramento conference.

 _Huh,_ she thinks, pocketing her keys. _Maybe I'll be luckier, this time around._

;;

Aster drives around slowly, like she's easing back into Squahamish's veins—if that makes sense. The streets are quiet, as they're wont to be on early mornings like this. Nothing much has changed, as far as the town is concerned, but as Aster soon realizes, she can't help but feel so starkly aware that she's no longer the Aster that once existed here—something in her has _shifted,_ irrevocably.

The word scares her—*irrevocably—*but she figures she has to come to terms with it, sooner rather than later.

When she first spots them from afar, she doesn't quite believe her eyes: _Are they—out on a morning jog?_ It's hard to miss such a small crew led by a giant goofball, especially considering the empty streets.

When she sees Ellie—small, flushed, huffing—it takes all of her not to let out a faint laugh. She looks so incredibly focused—so incredibly _Ellie._ Aster parks by the curb and gets out, stashing her hands in her pockets as she walks over, preparing to be seen.

"Oh, hi Aster!" Paul greets. His smile is wide as he slows to a stop; Ellie, for all of her concentration, crashes into him unceremoniously, which surprises him. "Oh shit. So sorry."

Aster can't help but return Paul's smile with a small chuckle of her own. "Hey Paul," she says. And then, still eyeing Ellie, she breathes in and braces herself. "Hey Ellie."

Even her own voice sounds strange, wrapping around Ellie's name like that—the first time in what feels like a long while.

"Hi," says Ellie. It takes Aster back to that hallway, picking up Kazuo Ishiguro and a phone. "When did—when did you get in?"

"Just now," says Aster, biting down on her lip at how _instantaneously_ that came out. _Am I coming across as too eager?_ she wonders. "So, uh. You guys workout buddies already?" she asks instead, an attempt to change the topic.

Paul and Ellie start speaking at the same time, as if to defend themselves or to salvage their reputation.

"Oh most definitely not—"

"You're most welcome to join us—"

Aster tries not to laugh out loudly as Ellie elbows Paul. "Remember when I said I was being ganged upon?"

"You were being bullied into _running?_ " Aster asks in kind, unable to ultimately keep the laugh in, marveling at the confusion and helplessness on Ellie's face. "Stop bullying her!" she tells Paul, watching as Ellie tries her best to hide behind his arm.

"Yes ma'am," Paul just says, doing a mock-salute.

Aster nods, before noting the nameplate on his shirt. "You with the Moose coaching staff now?"

"Yeah," Paul says, beaming proudly. "How are—how are you?"

"Pretty good," says Aster, shrugging. "Great to be back." She follows Paul's line of sight—it leads her to Ellie's dad, who is still stretching off the side.

Paul clears his throat. "I should probably—" he says, pointing. "Join him."

Aster lets him gesture around awkwardly for a bit before laughing. "You probably should," she agrees, waving as he walks away.

Which leaves Aster alone with Ellie. _Finally,_ she catches herself thinking, before pushing the thought away. "Hi," she says instead, voice soft, now acutely aware at how everything else has boiled down to this one moment.

Ellie squints at her like she's studying her, quiet like she usually is. "Hey," Ellie says finally. "You're _here._ "

Aster lets go of the breath she had not been aware she's been holding. "Yeah," she says, taking a tentative step closer. "How's your morning jog?"

Ellie tilts her head, thinking about her answer. "Not as... _bad_ as expected," she says. "Paul probably went easy on us this morning."

"I don't think he's supposed to drive you like his football trainees," Aster replies, giving Ellie a little nudge as Ellie falls back against her warmly. "Do you have plans this morning?"

There's a long pause as Ellie stares at Paul and her dad stretching. "Um, I don't think so," she says. Aster breathes out a little easier, relieved. "I just—I actually wanted to sleep in."

Aster turns her head to look at Ellie—this night owl probably barely had enough sleep. "Wanna nap in my car?" she says. The offer's out before she could take it back, and she bites down on her lip nervously, wondering how that sounded.

Ellie gives her a confused look, blinking. "You just got here," she says eventually. "I'm not just going to sleep on you."

 _Oh thank god,_ Aster just thinks. At least Ellie hasn't completely freaked out on her. "That's great to hear because I'm _starving,_ " she says instead, completely changing the subject to something safe. _Like breakfast,_ she thinks idly, looping a lazy arm around Ellie's in an effort to get more comfortable. "What do you say?"

Ellie simply lets herself be _drawn_ , nodding in quiet agreement as Aster gathers her close.

;;

Aster still remembers sitting across Paul, as the quiet grew ridiculously awkward. _A lifetime ago entirely,_ she thinks, eyeing Ellie now as she sleepily negotiates with her coffee. It doesn't feel awkward at all—adorable, yes, but not awkward. She doesn't mind sitting here like this, saying nothing.

When Ellie starts rubbing at her eyes, Aster can't help but smile. "Sleepyhead," she says softly, mostly to herself. And then, a bit louder:: "You okay?"

"Oh," Ellie says, eyes widening behind her glasses. She gets this comical look sometimes, like she's almost embarrassed for doing something completely normal. "Um. Yeah. _Sorry,_ just—you know." She makes a show of exhaling slowly, as if to make her point. "Catching my breath."

Aster laughs lightly. "Take your time," she says. "I mean, we've got plenty."

Out again before she could think twice about it— _what if I'm actually barging in on some full day plans? I should have called ahead. What the hell was I thinking?_

"We do?" asks Ellie.

Aster nods, trying to hold back a frown. "Unless, of course..."

" _Oh,_ " says Ellie quickly, hand seeking Aster's on the table. "Of course—of _course._ No—I mean. Uh, yes? I mean—what do you have in mind?"

 _This is a disaster._ Aster stares at their now-joined hands, her grip light. "Hey," she says. "I just want to catch up. That's all." And then, "We can take it easy."

 _Easy._ Ellie relaxes into her hold, her hand warm. _Just like this._

;;

In the car, Aster spies the pack of cigarettes that she's left out by complete accident—she had planned to stash it inside the glove compartment, only to forget at the last minute. She wonders, a bit nervous, if Ellie's seen it— _what is she thinking? Why hadn't I thought about mentioning this in any of the letters?_

Aster shakes her head and clears her throat. "Thank you again for the playlist," she says, rolling the windows down. This time of the year already has that pleasant chill that she's always been fond of. "My trip was a whole lot more bearable because of it. It was such a good companion. You have fantastic taste."

"Thanks," says Ellie. "Glad you enjoyed that. It has served its purpose."

Aster smiles, trying to keep her eyes on the road—which is hard, considering it's Ellie in the passenger seat, and she can't help but keep sneaking sideways glances. She likes catching Ellie like this—completely unaware that she's being adorable.

And then, there's still the matter of the cigarettes on the dashboard.

Aster taps her fingertips against the wheel, the silence nagging at her like an itch. After a while, she clears her throat. "Do you mind?" she asks finally, hazarding a pointed glance at the pack. "I mean—I don't have to, if you do."

Elli looks at her, then looks at where she's looking, before turning back. _Shit._ Aster can feel her eyes, despite having hers steady on the road ahead. A mild panic threatens to overtake her before Ellie finally replies: "Actually," she begins, letting it hang for a moment. Aster holds her breath. "I don't mind having one if you are."

 _Excuse me?_ Aster must have misheard—but the words that ring in her ear tell her otherwise. _I don't mind._ "Ellie Chu," she finds herself saying, unable to keep a smile off her lips. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You're one to talk," Ellie shoots back, reaching for the pack herself and handing a cigarette to Aster. "Got a light?"

Aster takes the car cigarette lighter out. "Here, I think it still works." Ellie shifts closer, her cigarette coming to life. "Does your father know?" Aster asks.

Ellie blows smoke out the window. "Oh hell no," she says, shaking her head. "I have been on a smoking hiatus since I got here." And then, lighting Aster's cigarette in turn, "I'd been bracing myself for an entire break without it."

"Honestly, I was... _worried._ About telling you," Aster admits. "About what you'd think."

"I'd be the last person to judge you for it, you know," Ellie assures her. "I'd be the last person to judge you for _anything._ I promise."

Aster looks out her window, blowing smoke in kind. Here Ellie goes again—going for the heart, no warning. "Thanks," she says, for the lack of anything better to say. "You're sweet. You know that right?"

"I'm just," Ellie pauses. "Just trying to be a good friend."

 _Of course._ Aster tries not to let it feel like the sharp shard that it is. "Who's to say friends can't be sweet?" _Nice save, Flores._ "Hold on, we're almost there."

Aster remembers the moment she first felt like taking Ellie places—that moment in Paul's basement, when she felt so _seen_ for the first time in a long time. Looking back, she should have known then—the letters, the mural, all of it. How had she been so _blind?_

"How do you know about these things?" comes Ellie's question, breaking into Aster's thoughts. This—Ellie's wide-eyed amusement, as she beholds the view ahead of her—is priceless.

"Let's just say a former life pushed me to drive around a lot, looking for quiet places." She leans back against the hood of her car, taking another drag. She thinks briefly about *those days—*they feel like lifetimes ago entirely—a collection of things that happened to an altogether different person.

Ellie sits beside her, hand held out for the pack. "How many secret places do you have up your sleeve, Aster Flores?" she asks, unlit cigarette bouncing at the corner of her lips as she lights it up quickly.

 _Oh,_ Aster thinks, pondering the question, dazed for a moment by Ellie's smile. "Stick around long enough and maybe you'll find out," she just says, grinning herself, asking for a light.

Ellie shifts closer to do so, and Aster holds her breath. She's had similar moments with Jess and Nico, but it has _never_ felt like this: Like she's so close and warm and _vulnerable_. It's not entirely unpleasant—but it's not entirely comfortable either. _Whatever this in-between is, it has Ellie in it,_ she just reminds herself.

"Is this why people like smoking in small groups?" asks Ellie, out of the blue. "I've never—I only ever smoked alone. It helps me think more clearly."

Aster imagines Ellie alone on a smoke break, huddled in a corner, lost in a book or her thoughts, and gets a little... not exactly sad, but— _wistful_. A longing in her chest that she could not entirely place. _All those lost afternoons on a smoke break with you,_ she thinks idly. "Really? Your friends don't smoke?"

"They do—I mean, that's how I picked it up," says Ellie. "But I never really got the charm of cigarette breaks as socialization."

"Hm." Aster leans back, shielding her eyes from the sun, watching the clouds past the trees. "How about now?"

"Are you kidding me? I wish I could have a break like this in Grinnell every single afternoon."

Aster closes her eyes, trying to imagine that. _Oh, to have afternoons with you. To walk home from libraries, waiting for sunset._ When she breathes in, she could almost smell it. "What a view, no?" she ends up saying instead.

"Well," says Ellie. "The company's not so bad, either."

They lie back on the windshield, smoking in quiet for a while, shoulders touching. Breeze blows gently, ruffling the leaves above them. Sunlight filters through, landing warmly on their legs. A perfect day as any. Aster turns to Ellie, propped up on an elbow. "Thanks for coming out with me today," she says.

"Thanks for letting me come with," says Ellie. "Not sure what I did to deserve this level of access to these secret places—but I'm always grateful."

"I'm grateful too," Aster answers, holding Ellie's eye. _Does she know?_ she wonders. _Can she see how this all makes me feel?_ She breathes in deep, throwing caution to the wind. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._ "It feels wonderful. Having someone."

(Aster still remembers the last time Ellie looked at her like this. It's from that morning she kissed her.)

;;

Aster has been dreaming about painting. Like, literally—sees it in her dreams. She hasn't had time to do a bit of it, despite being on vacation. To be honest, she hadn't expected it to feel a bit more _school_ and less _hobby._ She just supposes it's a fair trade off for being able to pursue what she really wants.

Speaking of wants—at some point, Aster also realizes, she's going to have to go back to the spring. With Ellie. It has been nagging at her since the kiss. _Deciduous trees,_ she thinks fondly. Looking back, perhaps she'd unknowingly gone out to test her theory, already a seed in her head.

"Wanna go somewhere tomorrow?" is how she asks Ellie, over the phone. She's cryptic on purpose—she'd been putting it off, a small part of her afraid that Ellie might, for some reason, say no. _That's ridiculous,_ she reminds herself. _This girl kissed you._ It's a fact that she somehow can't stop thinking about, yet always manages to forget; it's something she can't really explain.

 ** _SmithCorona:_** Of course. No errands tomorrow?

"Finally finished, thank God," says Aster. And then, remembering that Ellie's schedule probably does not revolve around Aster's free time, she adds: "Anything you have scheduled tomorrow? I can drive you."

 ** _SmithCorona:_** Oh no, no need for that. Wherever you want.

Aster smiles. She's been thinking about painting at the spring; perhaps it's high time for a visit. Besides, now's a definitely good time as any to let Ellie join a painting session.

"Careful what you wish for," Aster replies, too giddy that she lets a small unassuming smiley slip. "Pardon the emoji?"

 ** _SmithCorona:_** Emoji forgiven.

 ** _SmithCorona:_** Any clue where you're taking us?

Aster lets her fingertips hover over her screen, pondering what to say next. _Is it ok to be cryptic? Won't that turn her off?_ But then again, didn't Ellie also say, _A little anticipation is good for you?_

"I was hoping I could surprise you," Aster ends up replying.

 ** _SmithCorona:_** Fine, I'll let you keep your secret for now—but I'm buying us brunch.

 _Oh,_ Aster thinks, leaning her head against her window. _That could work._ "It's a date then," she says, the smile on her face already full-blown and probably already embarrassing. "Good night, Ellie."

;;

Over breakfast, Aster finds that she can't stop talking; she's nervous, and she knows Ellie could probably tell. _It's a date_ , it keeps ringing in her head. _God, couldn't I have chosen a less embarrassing last thing to say?_

"Do you ever dream about the same place twice?" Aster ventures. Last night, she had one of her recurring dreams again, and she's always wondered if anybody else dreams the same way.

"Like, recurring settings?" Ellie asks. "Common places maybe—like school. Or our house. Or the station."

"I mean, like—a completely made up place," Aster replies, trying to recall the details. "Mine has always been this—beach resort. A hotel by the sea that I've never really been to before, but my brain likes going back to time and again." And then, checking the look on Ellie's face— _man, she must think I'm a weirdo_ —"Weird, right?"

Ellie shakes her head, leaning closer, the way she does when she's interested. "Not at all. What else do you remember?"

"I felt like everything was very familiar. I was moving freely around the beach, the hotel. It felt like—like I worked there," says Aster. "I was painting this huge wall mural at the entrance."

"Still painting in your dream, I see," Ellie jokes.

"Which brings me to my sort of surprise for you today."

Ellie narrows her eyes at her in jest. "Are we headed for the beach?"

"Oh, I wish!" Aster laughs. Perhaps a part of her is also missing their occasional summer outing—that distinct smell of warm summer breeze. She files the thought under ' _Someday, maybe_ ' as she reaches into her bag. "Sorry, not quite—but I hope this is just as good."

It's almost comical how Ellie's face lights up at the sight of her art materials.

"I was hoping we could go and paint today."

Ellie opens her mouth to say something before closing it and trying again. "Are you—are you _kidding_ me?" she asks, unable to hide how giddy she is. "Are you letting me—?"

"Yes," says Aster, without skipping a beat. "Because you asked, and—well. I've missed painting anyway. Probably why I was dreaming of it."

"Probably," Ellie nods. "So—where are we painting?"

Aster bites her lip, trying to keep her cards still close to her chest. "You'll see."

;;

The spring feels a bit lighter than she remembers. Before Ellie, she's always come here alone, and it has always felt somewhat... _snug_. Just enough space for one. When she came with Ellie, that first time, she'd thought they wouldn't fit.

But here they are now, and the spring feels a whole lot... _wider_. Like there's room.

"We're painting at the spring," says Ellie, voice soft, almost reverent, as Aster slips her hand into hers and walks into the clearing, bag of supplies in tow.

Aster just smiles as she leads them nearer the water and takes out a mat. She arranges her materials and waits for Ellie to fill the quiet.

"No swimming?" asks Ellie finally.

"Maybe later," Aster replies. She looks out and begins her sketch, trying not to be distracted by Ellie shuffling beside her—eventually, she realizes that she's been trying to take the pack of cigarettes out of Aster's back pocket.

"How do you manage to _hide_ your cigarettes?" asks Ellie, eyeing Aster as she lights up. "I think I'm having mild withdrawal."

Aster smiles at her. "You sure that's the cigs?" It's out before she realizes how that sounded; off the look on Ellie's face— _oh god, I embarrassed her, didn't I? shit_ —Aster forces out a laugh, trying to sound casual, touching Ellie's arm even."Sorry. I was only teasing you."

Ellie blinks, taking a drag and turning away. "Right."

 _Shit._ Aster returns to her drawing and tries to focus on the details—the edges of the water, where it meets the grass, the edges of the trees and the grass.

When she feels Ellie looking on, she feels a wave of relief wash over her; perhaps it's safe enough for conversation. "Do you know how I started smoking?" she begins, not looking up from her sketch. "Jess taught me. You remember Jess, don't you?"

"Not the one who's into you?" Ellie replies.

 _Of course._ Aster laughs. "Not the descriptor I was hoping you'd remember,"she says. "But yeah—the first thing she told me was that one day I'll hate her for it. She went ahead anyway."

"Do you think you'd ever kick this?" Ellie asks, lifting her cigarette-holding hand.

"Maybe," says Aster. "Sooner or later, I guess?" And then, "I was just eager to try something new, you know? Like something Squahamish Aster wouldn't even think about."

"To be fair to _Squahamish Aster_ ," Ellie cuts in, complete with air quotes, "She could pretty much do anything she ever sets her mind to."

"Even if it's onboarding a new vice, no?" Aster asks back, to which Ellie can offer a small laugh of her own. "Anyway—Jess and I. We formed our little routine around smoking behind the library in the afternoons before going home. It was a comfort; something I looked forward to." She pauses to dip her paintbrush; by now she's already coloring the forest in.

"And then, there was Marco."

"The boyfriend," Ellie says, drawing a breath.

"Yeah, and I—I felt _horrible_. That I was unable to be completely happy for her, just because we had this one dumb ritual that we had to cut back on." It's out a tad bit more bitter than intended, before she could even temper it.

"Hey," Ellie offers, reaching out to touch Aster's elbow. Even Aster is surprised to feel how comforting it is; how warm. "Friendship is complicated, ok? Rituals are important to all kinds of relationships—they're not dumb."

Aster ponders that term. _Rituals. What sort of rituals are we making now, you and I?_ She pauses mid-stroke and turns her head. "Thanks," says Aster. "It's just—I feel like I've been an overall bad friend during our first term."

"I'm sure your other friends would disagree."

Aster laughs as an extraordinarily sharp memory of Nico crosses her mind. "Oh god," she ends up saying, resuming her strokes. "I should tell you about Nico."

There's a brief pause before Ellie supplies, "The one who's into you." She takes a long drag before crushing her cigarette into the ground and turning her face to blow the smoke out.

Aster does not want to entertain the thought, but it's there, playing in the corners of her head— _Did Ellie sound... jealous?_ And then: _God, don't be so assuming, Flores. You're probably over-reading things._

"We attended one of those parties—we'd gotten closer after Jess and Marco got together, like a couple of rejects." Aster pauses and lets a small laugh through, trying to shake off her slowly creeping nervousness. "Anyway. At some point during the party she asked me—out of curiosity, she said—if I had someone back home." It's out so tentatively, Aster isn't even sure where exactly she wants to go with this.

After a long beat, Ellie just asks: "And?"

Aster tries to calm herself by continuing her strokes—dip and paint, slow and steady. Gradually, the view on her canvas is coming to life, in full color.

"And nothing," Aster finally says. "She was just curious, she said."

"Oh," says Ellie. "What did you—what did you say?"

Aster holds on to her brush more tightly, fingertip aching. "I said yes," she says, trying to pass it off as a completely ordinary thing. "I mean, it's kind of true." She pauses, considering. _Are you sure? Might as well?_ She bites down on her tongue, like she could talk herself out of it— _step back from the ledge_ , she's telling herself. _Step back_.

"There _is_ someone." _Fuck it._ She hazards a look at Ellie, who has turned quiet and pensive. _What I wouldn't give to have a glimpse of your mind right now._ "Ellie?" says Aster softly, touching Ellie's wrist. "Are you okay?"

When Ellie breathes in, it's like she's recollecting herself. "Sorry," she tells Aster. "You were saying—there's, um, someone. Is it—I didn't know, that you and Trig, you were still—"

 _What? Did Ellie really think—she and Trig—what?_ "Oh," Aster can't help the way her eyes widen at the thought. "That's most definitely not—it's not Trig. Most definitely not." She hasn't even seen a shadow of him—nor does she have any plan to, considering.

"Sorry," comes Ellie's quick apology. "I didn't mean. So—um. You and Paul, then?"

Aster tries not to laugh out loud, or look at Ellie like she's grown an extra head or something. "What?" _How could this conversation have gone so damn wrongly_ , she wonders. Where exactly did she make the wrong turn? "Paul? Oh." Aster tightens her hold around Ellie's wrist. "I'm not supposed to curse, but _Jesus Christ_ , Ellie."

Ellie blinks at her. _Twice._ "What?" she just manages after a while, slightly exasperated.

Aster reaches for her cigarettes, rubbing at Ellie's arm. "Here. You look like you need one." Ellie receives the offer with a shaky hand and lights it, saying nothing. After a while, Aster asks again: "You all right?"

Ellie takes a drag before apologizing. "Sorry," she says. "But... was I _misunderstanding_ something?"

Aster looks at her, weighing the words in her head carefully. The way Ellie holds her eye tells her there's so much that has been left out of this conversation—and she isn't sure if they're ready for any of it all. _Whatever am I going to do with you?_ she wonders, shaking her head as she turns back to her piece and polishes it with one last stroke.

"It's complicated," says Aster. "But I assure you—it has nothing to do with Trig or Paul. _At all."_

Ellie is quiet before letting out a soft, "Oh." And then: "I'm sorry, I didn't—I did not mean to assume."

"It's okay, really." She lifts her painting closer to her lips and blows upon the paint, before carefully handing it over to Ellie. "This is for you, by the way. I hope it meets expectations."

The tremble is still in Ellie's hand, but she holds onto the corner of the paper firmly. "Are you kidding me? This is _perfect._ " She runs her eyes all over the painting before holding it up, side by side against the scenery. "What a lovely painting to remember this day by."

 _Oh, that's all you darling,_ Aster almost says, but in the end she bites on her tongue. "Something lovely for a lovely person," she ends up saying herself.

They're mostly quiet after that; they decide to forego swimming in favor of just lying back on the mat and finishing the rest of their cigarettes, content at just looking at the sky through the smoke and trees. Beside her, Ellie is a warm, easy presence—such a contrast to the current maelstrom in her chest; all those words that are threatening to come out.

"El," Aster says softly, breaking their silence. "I meant it, you know. When I said there was someone."

Aster holds her breath as she waits for Ellie's response— _Does she get it now?_ she wonders, just as Ellie lets out a sigh.

"I know," she just says.

 _Perhaps. Or perhaps not._ Aster tries to brush it off lightly with a laugh. "No," she says gently. "I don't think you do." _Not the way I want you to._

Ellie says nothing; Aster lets it be, allowing herself to be wrapped in the soft sounds of the forest around them, and the warm brush of Ellie's shoulder as she moves her cigarette-holding hand.

For now, it's enough.

;;

Aster drops by the station early the following morning to catch Ellie working. "My dad had to go jog," says Ellie, emerging from the booth, drowning in layers. The mornings are now much more colder; it brings out the blush in Ellie's cheek, though Aster wishes it were something else entirely.

"Morning," Aster greets, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. "You're busy early."

Ellie shrugs, leaning back against the booth. "Not too busy for visitors," she says, offering a smile. "It's always great to see you."

Ellie takes her into one of the abandoned train cars, where it is much warmer for conversation. Aster is pleasantly surprised to see a makeshift kitchenette setup in one corner. "Coffee?" Ellie offers shyly. "I find it easier to prepare breakfast here, instead of going back up to get some."

Aster seats herself beside Ellie; best to huddle together for warmth, isn't that what they always say? "I'd have some of whatever you're having," she replies. "If that's okay."

"It's more than okay," says Ellie, reaching for the electric kettle and pouring. The smell of coffee fills the small carriage, making the space even cozier and more comfortable. Aster reaches out tentatively herself to place a hand on Ellie's knee—lightly, like she's asking permission. Ellie glances at it before handing the cup to Aster. _Permission granted,_ Aster thinks, hand now resting warmly.

"How did you sleep?" asks Aster, taking a small sip from her cup.

Ellie nods into hers. "Not so bad," she says, letting her other arm rest behind Aster, so close that Aster could feel her fingertips ghosting behind her arm, almost ticklish. "How about you?"

"It was all right," says Aster. She turns toward her as they speak, so that they're even closer; she can't help herself, her body magnetized. _Goddamn,_ she thinks. _Too damn early for this._ "I dreamt of you, you know."

"Oh?" says Ellie, lifting her brow. She does not move away; perhaps they've reached a place where she no longer has to flinch whenever Aster is this close—it's own reward and curse, it seems. "Was it in one of your recurring ones?"

Aster nods. "Yeah," she says. "We were back in the spring."

"The spring is a recurring dream for me, too," Ellie admits. "Were you painting?"

"No," says Aster, toying with one of Ellie's jacket's zippers. "We were in the water."

Ellie lets out a little shiver—Aster feels it right through her jeans. "Sorry," Ellie says. "I just think—god, that water must be cold."

"If it's any consolation, you were in _so many_ layers," says Aster, laughing softly.

"Did you also try to steal any of them this time around?"

"Yeah," Aster says. "You had so many of them—I kept taking one off, and there'd always be another. And another. And _another._ "

Ellie coughs at that, laughing as she stows her cup away. "Were you—Aster Flores, were you undressing me in your dream?"

 _Well, that escalated quickly._ Aster tries to hide behind her cup, until there is no more coffee left to drink. "Well, when you put it that way," she begins, stowing her cup in kind. Her face feels so warm. "You always stayed clothed though! _I promise._ "

Ellie narrows her eyes at her before laughing out loud. "Jesus," she just says. "Your subconscious is trying to tell you something interesting, eh?"

"I suppose it's a metaphor for wanting to get to know you more, you know," says Aster. "In all senses of the word."

"I'm sorry," Ellie replies, hand tracing idle figures behind Aster's shoulder. "I mean—for the _layers._ It's just—it's me."

"I know," says Aster, tightening her hold around Ellie's knee. "I don't mind. My subconscious can wait."

"Not that it has a choice in the matter," says Ellie, smiling. And then, face turning a bit serious: "What else were we up to in your dream?"

 _Oh._ Aster hadn't thought about going this far into the details; just thinking about the rest worsens the blush that's been on her face for a while now. _Goddamned subconscious._ "Well, um. There were other things as well."

"Such as?"

Aster hides her face behind her hands, embarrassed and _giggly._ After a while, Aster starts laughing, and Ellie can't help but join in, too.

"Let's keep the rest of my subconscious in the dark, for now," Aster offers. In their laughter, Ellie must have shifted even closer; like this, their faces could almost touch, if they leaned in just _so._ This close, she could see herself mirrored in Ellie's eyes.

"When I dream of the spring," Ellie begins. Her voice is low, and it seems to obliterate all ambient sound. Aster's breath get caught in her throat; her eyes straying on Ellie's lips. "I dream about you, too."

It's Aster's turn to say, " _Oh_." And then, despite the dryness in her throat, she manages to add: "Care to share the rest?"

Ellie just tilts her head. "You probably have an idea," she says, drawing closer and closer. "I mean. Don't you?"

 _Oh fuck this,_ Aster thinks, closing the gap herself, to where Ellie's mouth receives her, warm and open. Her arms come upon Ellie's shoulder, pulling her further in as Ellie wraps her arms around her in kind.

The kiss is nothing like the one on the street just outside Turning Point, all those months ago; this one is its own animal, a living, breathing thing. It crawls into Aster's chest and wreaks its own havoc, trampling over everything, including her mad beating heart.

Ellie pulls away first, gasping softly. "Oh," she says. And then, " _Oh._ " She touches her lips gingerly, looking at Aster like she's done something totally unimaginable. "Oh."

"Hey," says Aster, tucking a strand of stray hair behind Ellie's ear, touches tentative again. "Was that... okay?"

Ellie's eyes widen at the question. "Are you _kidding_ me?" she asks, chewing on her lip. "That was—I've been thinking about that," she just says. "I've been thinking about that _a lot._ "

"That makes the two of us," says Aster, exhaling. "Is that—is that all right?"

"I'm as new to this as you are," Ellie admits. "I hope... I hope that's okay?"

Aster nods, a bit too vigorously than intended. "Absolutely," she says. "Everybody's got their own pace, right? You gotta do it by yours."

Ellie reaches out and threads her fingers into Aster's, seeking a comforting hand. "Thanks," she just says. "But... what does this all _mean_ now?"

"Wish I knew," says Aster, toying with Ellie's fingertips briefly. "I mean, we could always find out together? How does that sound to you?"

Ellie pauses to give it a thought. "Well—that seems nice, considering," she just says. "Does that, I don't know—involve more kissing, perhaps?"

Ellie just winks at her, making Aster laugh. "Only one way to find out," she answers, leaning back in, smothering Ellie's laugh with her lips.

;;

On Ellie's last night in Squahamish, Aster comes over for dinner. Paul serves his tacos as requested—Aster made sure to raise her concern about never being around for product tests. Paul laughs and serves Aster extra, swatting Ellie's hand when she tries to swipe some.

Ellie lets out a soft shout. " _Munsky!_ "

"Sorry!" says Paul, indignant. "New customer, Chu! Would you please?"

Aster just laughs, giving Ellie her side-eye. "Told you so." And then, to Paul: "Thank you."

Paul beams like a schoolboy awaiting his reward. Aster thinks about it as she chews—not gonna lie, these things are _good._ No wonder Ellie insists on swiping. "Not bad, Paul," Aster says, appreciative. "When's the restaurant opening?"

Paul laughs, blushing a little, scratching the back of his head. "Soon, I hope," he just says. Off the side, Ellie eats her taco in silence, glaring at him.

Aster is _definitely_ going to miss this once break is over.

There's an unexpected joy from hanging out with Ellie and Paul *together—*it's like as a unit, they give off a different energy entirely. It's equal parts surprising and comforting, considering where they'd been. _Oh, how far we've come,_ she just thinks, watching the two of them wash the dishes side by side, their comical height difference notwithstanding.

Afterwards, Aster asks Ellie, "You wanna take a walk?"

Ellie wipes her hands against Paul's shirt and smiles at her. "Sure thing."

It's cold out, so Aster walks them far enough along the tracks for cigarettes. Ellie kicks at the gravel under her feet; she knows what this night means.

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"First thing in the morning," Ellie replies. Aster lights a cigarette and hands it over. "How about you?"

Aster waits for the cigarette to return, takes a drag before handing it back. "Day after," she says. "I'm taking my car. Dad says I could, starting this term."

Ellie nods, smiling wider. "That gives you more mobility, that's—that's fantastic," she says. She leans back against one of the empty train cars, staring at the ground. "That was—we had a good break, yeah?"

"We did," says Aster, reaching out for Ellie's hand and stepping closer. "So—you'll still write me, yes?"

"I'll start as soon as I get settled back in," says Ellie. And then, much softer, "Not like I can think of anything else when I'm there."

Aster smiles, leans in as Ellie offers her the last of their cig. "As I'll be driving a lot, you should be making me more of your playlists," she says. "Just a thought."

"I'll take a painting or a doodle in exchange," says Ellie. "Make me things, will you?"

"Okay." Aster looks up, eyes suddenly misty. The night sky is starry and clear. "Hey listen. I know we said a couple of years—"

Ellie cuts her off with a kiss, pulling her in, hands cupping her face. _Oh,_ Aster thinks, _This is the absolute worst time to get used to this._

"Did we?" asks Ellie.

Aster blinks, dazed. "Did we what?"

"Say a couple of years? And for what? I've forgotten."

Aster laughs, dropping a quick peck on the tip of Ellie's nose. "I don't know—you were the one who said it, the last time. That you'll see me in a couple of years."

"Oh, right."

"I mean—I wanted to honor that, and not ask until then."

"Ask about what?" asks Ellie.

Aster hesitates. _What if this is as good as it gets? What if everything changes? What if—_

" _Aster Flores,_ " Ellie repeats, a hint of urgency in her tone. "Ask me about _what._ "

Aster breathes in. _This is ridiculous, Flores,_ she tells herself. _This girl interrupted you just a while ago with a kiss—how about a bit of faith?_ Still, even as she holds Ellie this close, it frays her nerves.

 _How about a bit of slack,_ says the other side of her brain. _You've never done this before._

"I was thinking," she says finally. "If you'd like to have a girlfriend at this point? I mean, that's—an odd way of asking if you want to be mine, but I understand this is every bit your active decision as it is mine—"

" _Oh my god,_ " Ellie just says, kissing her again. "I'm totally rubbing off on you, aren't I?"

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," says Aster, kissing her again. And again. Ellie relaxes against the train car, smiling into Aster's lips, and all Aster could think about is how this is not a bad thing at all.

Not one bit.

;;

**Epilogue**

_Dear Aster,_

_I began writing this as soon as I was able to unload the last of my things and return them inside the closet. I can't believe we're about to start another term—my mind's racing, it's crazy, I really had to sit down and take a quiet moment to gather myself._

_How was your drive? By the time you get this letter, you've probably settled in yourself, or so I hope. I'm sorry I was not able to get you a new playlist in time for your drive—as you know, it was... an eventful final few hours in Squahamish._

_I can't stop thinking about you—about this._

_I don't want to apologize for our newness—I don't think that's a fault. I think it can be exciting, if we let it. And, well—it can also be terrifying, but I don't want to think about that. I figured I should have better, kinder words for the tremors in my chest—not terror, but a rather strong-willed yearning. I think I like the sound of that better._

_I hope you're driving safely. I hope you're not smoking too much, and are drinking enough water. I hope you think about me from time to time._

_And, just to put it out there—maybe someday you'd find yourself wandering over to my neck of the woods. The university museum has some interesting exhibits in the next few months—I am attaching a flier of their exhibition schedules for your reference. Maybe we could try walking around—I have a few places I'd like to show you as well._

_Not to pressure you, or anything of course—just know that the invite stands, and that my room will always be open for you._

_much love and regards,_

_Ellie._


End file.
